To Ensnare the Senses
by teshara
Summary: When Professor Granger goes seeking the source of mysterious music she discovers Snape. As he delves into the castle for privacy, she finds a substitute in the Room of Requirement. When the Room serves up more than her normal nightly concert she takes advantage of it, but when fantasy turns to reality, she searches the archives to discover the origins of the Room of Requirement.
1. Chapter 1

For mesmerizing

Warnings: uncomfortable situation, major character death (before fic starts), aggressive sex

Summary: When Professor Hermione Granger goes seeking the source of mysterious music on her nightly rounds she discovers Snape is harboring a secret talent. As he delves deeper into the castle for privacy Hermione finds a substitute musical source in the Room of Requirement. When the Room serves up more than her normal nightly concert she takes advantage of it, but when fantasy turns to reality and Severus runs off, Hermione has to delve deeper into the Hogwarts' archives to discover the origins of the Room of Requirement and what it means for the both of them.

Original Prompt: A story where Severus is with an instrument of some description-can be his singing voice. Severus plays an instrument-perhaps piano or cello?-and Hermione watches on.

* * *

Hermione lay in a hammock, sipping a glass of lemonade and enjoying the growing darkness. She looked up at the castle and sighed as she watched curtains fluttering in the breeze. She closed her eyes and breathed in sweet air.

A whisper of music blew on the breeze. She didn't recognize the tune, but it relaxed her just the same. She sighed and settled in, waiting for the first stars to appear.

"Professor Weasley?"

Hermione looked up to see the nervous face of a fourth year.

"Hello, Theresa," Hermione said as she slid into a sitting position. "What can I help you with?"

"I'm a bit confused about Lectern's Equation…" the girl trailed off. "Does it work the same way during a leap year?"

Hermione smiled. "There's a variable for a leap year. You have to square the trajectory of Venus and then divide it by the number of cubits between it and Mars."

"Oh!" The girl looked relieved. "Oh good! I was wondering why everything looked so wonky!"

"Go in and get some supper. You look like you've been in the library all afternoon."

"I have," the girl admitted.

"Go eat! I can sneak into the kitchens later, and if you know how I don't want to hear about it!" Hermione chided.

The girl thanked her and ran off, leaving Hermione alone with her hammock and her lovely view of the sky and the tail end of several greenhouses.

She waved her wand and a floating board with food on appeared next to her.

"What's all this?"

Hermione looked up guiltily as Headmistress McGonagall approached her. "Erm… dinner under the stars?" She looked up to see none had appeared yet. "In a minute or so."

McGonagall conjured herself a chair and sat on it. "I assume there's room for two?"

"Always." Hermione grinned.

A hint of the melody drifted by again and the air seemed to curl around the food, making it drift up to her.

"There's only a few more weeks of this before the weather begins to get cold," McGonagall remarked.

"And only two more days to enjoy Gribble's Phenomenon," Hermione grinned.

"Did you remember your enchanted spectacles?" McGonagall teased her.

"Like I'd forget." Hermione smirked and patted the top of her head. She made a strange face as she discovered her head was bare, other than her curly brown hair.

McGonagall chuckled at Hermione's face.

"Eat up dear, you still have plenty of time," McGonagall said reassuringly.

They ate quickly with McGonagall begging off dessert. She wished Hermione a good night before she continued with her evening constitutional around the enchanted gardens.

Hermione hurried to her classroom, hoping that was the place she had used her Viewing Glasses.

She heard hints and echoes of the music as she went down the hallways. She stopped once or twice to decipher which direction it was coming from, but she couldn't tell. The halls projected echoes when they were full; it was nearly impossible to track small noises when they were empty.

She found her glasses under her desk and took a moment to write an Arithmancy equation on her chalkboard before heading back. This time she didn't hear anything.

* * *

"So, Rose decided to go to some sort of Muggle school?" Professor Sinistra asked Hermione politely.

"Oxford is a very good school," Flitwick interjected. "It's an excellent place for Muggle Studies."

Hermione opened, and then closed her mouth. Sometimes it just wasn't worth it.

"It's good to have you living with us in the castle, Hermione," Sinistra said in a low voice. "It's not good to be rattling around an empty old house."

"I know it's hard to believe, but I was almost more upset at Rose moving out than I was about losing Ron," Hermione confided. "A big house in the country is great when you have little ones running around, but now-"

"Oh, you don't have to tell us, dear," Flitwick piped up. "It's how most of us came to live here. You'll get used to it."

"I'm not sure how comfortable I'll get with midnight rounds," Hermione said crankily.

"It's a duty all the permanent residents share," Flitwick reminded her with a smile. "The hospital wing has several potions that will help you stay awake."

"I think I'll keep that in mind," Hermione said, somewhat cheered. "I'm not quite the night owl I used to be."

"You and the rest of us, dear," Sinistra assured her.

* * *

Hermione groggily made her way to the hospital wing. She wanted to drink coffee, but McGonagall had warned her against getting addicted to coffee or tea. The potions worked better and weren't habit forming.

She heard the faintest strains of music coming from somewhere within the castle. Its origins weren't anywhere near any of the common rooms- she had checked two nights before. At first she had thought it was some sort of radio, but the sound wasn't consistent and there was never any DJ or commercials.

She stopped and strained, but it seemed to echo away from her. She shook her head and quietly opened the door to the hospital wing. The beds were empty, thankfully, and Pomfrey had left her a bright yellow vial with a note attached.

Hermione downed and it and the smell of oranges assaulted her senses. It was over in a moment and she felt herself becoming sharper and more awake.

She left the bottle in a small sink and went back to the hallway, She strained her hearing but all she heard was the wind whispering through several open windows in the huge castle.

* * *

There was a tremendous sound, much like a glass chandelier falling from the ceiling. Hermione ran towards the source of the sound and found herself in the Charms classroom.

It had been, in fact, what it had sounded like. An enormous chandelier was completely shattered on the floor, tiny shards of glass and crystal scattered everywhere.

"Well," Professor Flitwick said regretfully. "It was a good go before you sneezed."

A blushing seventh year stood near him, a lowered wand in his hand.

Flitwick flicked his wand and the chandelier was restored to its place on the ceiling. "I think that's enough for today. I'll see you all again on Thursday!"

The class, who knew a dismissal when they heard it, quickly gathered their things and scurried out of the room. Several of them were giggling at the embarrassed student.

"Did we startle you?" Flitwick asked Hermione with a twinkle in his eye.

"I'd say so!" Hermione said, a hand on her chest. "I should thank you, anyway. I've been meaning to thank you for the Perking Potion. They've made things a lot easier."

"I'm surprised no one told you sooner," Flitwick said as he straightened his robes and climbed down from the stack of books he had been standing on. "Professor Snape usually makes sure we're stocked for emergencies."

Hermione snorted. "No wonder I didn't know about it."

"You two…" Flitwick trailed off as he shook his head. "I swear you're like the students sometimes."

"I could argue that he started it." Hermione grumbled, but Flitwick only chuckled.

"I'm sure you'll work it out."

"I've only seen him a few times since I got here." Hermione shrugged. "At first I thought he was avoiding me, but then I realized we didn't have any reason to cross paths."

"Other than the memos in the staff room." Flitwick chuckled.

She blushed. "Oh, all right. Maybe that got a little out of control."

"It's nice to know you finally worked out a schedule for harvesting potions ingredients," Flitwick said with an amused look on his face.

Hermione shrugged and rolled her eyes and he chuckled at her.

"I think some of the students have been about at night," Hermione confided. "I think I hear something, but I can't quite figure out where it's coming from."

"This old castle makes its own music from time to time, especially this time of year." Flitwick assured her. "What are you hearing?"

"That's just it!" Hermione said, startled he had guessed so closely. "I've been hearing music!"

"Ah." Flitwick went to his desk and began gathering scrolls. "I'm guessing that would be our resident 'Bat.'"

Her cheeks pinked. Those memos really ihad/i become completely inappropriate, hadn't they?

"What?" she asked him, the words finally sinking in.

"He's been working on some type of potion that's supposed to replace enchantments." Flitwick rolled his eyes. "Been testing it out at night. Don't let him know you hear him. If you do, he'll stop messing about when he knows you're on duty."

"Really?" Hermione tried to make it sound like a statement, but failed.

Flitwick snorted. "If you have to hunt him down, he's in the fourth level dungeons. You're hearing him through the hidden laundry chutes."

"Oh," Hermione said, wondering more about these laundry chutes. "Thank you."

* * *

"So how much can you fit in at a time?" Hermione asked Hobby, the grandson of Dobby, the free house-elf, and supervisor of Internal Housekeeping at Hogwarts.

"As much as we want to, Miss," Hobby bobbed his round little head. "Students used 'em for getting around before it was banned and the chutes hidden."

"Why?" Hermione asked curiously.

"They were a bloody nuisance, for starters," Hobby huffed, forgetting his manners. "The Headmaster thought they was being used for spying."

"Were they?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know, Miss," Hobby shrugged. "It was a long time ago and those elves' is gone."

"Do you know where the chutes are, Hobby?" Hermione asked. "I'd assume you know everything about Hogwarts' housekeeping secrets."

Hobby's chest puffed up with pride. "Of course I do, Miss! It's really quite clever!"

* * *

Hermione was thankful she was the one on patrol and not the student sneaking about when she shimmied her form into the laundry chute. She grabbed the tail of her robes and pulled it in before making herself comfortable.

It really was a clever system. Instead of just going to the laundry room, it could also go nearly everywhere in the castle so the laundry can be returned when it's done.

"Fourth level dungeons," Hermione whispered.

The capsule moved quickly through the walls of the castle, before finally settling softly. The music was louder now, but when she peered out of a crack in the chute she couldn't see anything but an old classroom, long forgotten and disused.

She frowned as another instrument joined the first, then another, bringing together a little group that was playing a song she didn't know. Perhaps he had an assistant.

The music abruptly stopped and there were a few soft 'thunks,' as if people were setting instruments down.

She carefully slipped her fingers into the crack and pushed down, opening the door of the chute.

She snuck out, making sure her robes didn't catch on anything, and snuck across the room. The door was cracked and she peered out into the hallway.

Torches lined the walls, but no one was there. She strained for a moment, waiting for footsteps, but the only noise was the sound of a quill scribbling furiously. She oiled the hinges of the door before pushing and breathed easier as it moved soundlessly.

The quill stopped suddenly and her heart jumped.

Good grief, what was she afraid of? She was a professor, not a student!

She stopped the urge to chuckle at herself. She heard movement, and then she heard a violin slowly begin drawing out a melody. This time she recognized it.

She grinned widely as the sounds of Peter and the Wolf filled the air.

She didn't care if it was a children's song, it was one of her favorites. The others joined in and soon the swell of music rang down the hall.

She took the opportunity to poke her head around the corner. She saw several doors, but only one was open, and light was pouring through the dimness. She tiptoed over the stone floor and nearly jumped as his voice started the narration.

She frowned as she got to her hands and knees. He might see her at face level, but he wouldn't expect someone on the floor.

She peeked into the room and her eyes went wide. A small orchestra hovered in mid-air, the instruments playing themselves. Snape was wearing a pair of gold rimmed glasses as he recited from a scroll, a violin in his hands. He was in his shirtsleeves and the loose, white fabric added with the tight black waistcoat surprised her.

She had only ever seen him in this state of undress once, during the duel with Lockhart when she was a student here herself.

Had it really been over thirty years? She suddenly felt how hard the stone really was under her knees and she wondered if she'd creak getting back up.

The music stopped and there was more scratching. He took a few steps and Hermione heard a sound like a jar lid being unscrewed. There was a plucking of strings and a quick spell, she missed what it was and scowled at herself.

The music started again, this time with a somewhat richer sound than before. She crawled back and let herself ease into a sitting position.

She enjoyed the music he was making for some time, even when he had to stop and go over something again. She finally dared to move when she heard him packing away the instruments. With all the cases opening and closing and latches being worked it was bound to cover the cracking sound that came from her knees.

She rubbed her tailbone and winced. She didn't know how fast he packed up, so she limped hurriedly back to the laundry chute and secured herself within its depths.

She rode silently to the chute nearest to her room, thankful she had a potion that helped with joint stiffness in her nightstand. Sometimes the insomnia made her back lock up and she didn't like to be taken by surprise.

She made sure the coast was clear before she climbed out of the wall and smoothed her robes down. She went to the tapestry of sleeping dragons and whispered her password.

The tapestry rolled itself up to reveal a heavy wooden door, which she opened with ease. The room was dark, but coals glowed in the small hearth set into one wall. She took a deep breath and sighed before waving her wand and lighting the candles around her room.

A basket of fruits and sandwiches were waiting on the small table she graded her assignments on. The house-elves always seemed to notice when she missed meals, even though she found herself eating away from the Great Hall more frequently.

She waved her wand at the canopied bed and the covers pulled themselves back. She walked into her small bathroom and washed her face before pulling on a pink flannel nightgown.

It had been an undertaking, getting a full bathroom in her quarters. There were faculty baths sprinkled throughout the castle and several of the older professors were used to chamber pots, but she liked her privacy and didn't like running around the castle at night when she was groggy.

Another reminder of her second year flashed through her head, making her flinch. Death Eaters be damned, the thing she had nightmares about the most was Slytherin's basilisk.

She walked back into her room and downed the stiffness potion in one gulp, causing her to wince at its bitterness. She smoothed lotion over her limbs and face before pinning her hair up and settling into bed.

The strains of music were still pulling at her mind, the story replaying itself as she felt herself begin to relax. She burrowed under her covers, the soft candlelight casting a golden glow over the room, and began to sleep.

* * *

"You're looking bright-eyed this morning!" Professor Flitwick nodded at Hermione as he buttered his toast.

"I finally got a good night's sleep," Hermione admitted.

"It always takes a few weeks," Flitwick reassured her. "You'll be fully settled soon."

"It's just—the quiet!" Hermione laughed. "I'm not used to it!"

"Wait for the semester to get into full swing." Flitwick snorted. "You'll be grateful for it soon enough!"

"I'm sure I will," Hermione said, but she felt as if she were lying.

* * *

Tonight he was playing the oboe. She listened to him practice the inflections over and over before he was finally satisfied.

He was methodical, each note being treated as if it were a keystone in the framework of the music. As if the fragility could be broken with one misplaced breath, stroke of a bow, or press of a key.

It was always the same piece now: Peter and the Wolf. Sometimes she caught bits and pieces of other things when she arrived, but it was clear they were just warm-up exercises and just a bridge from her mundane, numb life and into another full of wonderment and contentment.

She had never realized how disconnected she was becoming: keeping to herself, taking meals away from the Hall, drowning herself in projects for the students. Anything to fill the hole that been her family.

She had expected the children to grow and go out on their own, of course, but she hadn't expected the widowhood.

Of course, no one really ever plans for that type of thing. It was always for the future and security in the thought that all the papers were in order and accounts padded for a rainy day.

Then the day finally comes and no one asks about the papers or accounts.

It's not as if many couples go out together. There's always someone left behind, and in this game of chance it was Hermione who had remained.

She secretly wondered if it was better this way, how Ron would have made a total mess of things and how single life never really suited him. The thought of him clattering about an empty house moved her to tears as easily as the thought of him going.

She found herself thinking about things like that more and more often, drowning in her own thoughts.

But when she came here, all of that washed away.

It was her, and the music, and the story of a forest and a boy, and all other thoughts went from her head as she embraced the familiar words.

Suddenly she realized he was putting things away and wouldn't be starting again. Her eyes went wide as she heard him begin to walk towards the door and she scrambled to get to her feet. She made it, but stumbled on the hem of her robes and banged into the door leading into the room where the laundry chute was waiting for her.

She made a mad dive for the chute and yanked in the tail of her robes as she whispered the words and she shot off through the walls of the castle.

She arrived at her floor and nearly flew out of the wall and into her room, ducking under the tapestry as it was still rolling itself up and slamming her door shut.

She stood with her back against the door trying to catch her breath. It had been a short sprint, but there was a liberal dose of panic involved as well.

Suddenly, she began giggling.

She couldn't stop herself. A lot of it was nerves, but it wasn't like he could fail her or take points from Gryffindor. He might try, but he'd never get away with it.

Before she had moved into the castle it had been different. She had only taught three classes a week and only saw a few teachers. She had been able to avoid her second-to-least favorite teacher. She hardly ever thought of him, to tell the truth, but when she had moved in everything had changed.

They didn't sit near each other at the staff table, so she could avoid him at meals, but staff meetings were another matter. They ignored each other, to the point that amused several other teachers.

Now she was stalking him like some mad, musical bloodhound.

Oh, if Flitwick could see her now. The poor man just might do himself in by laughing too hard.

Hermione shook her head and took a trunk out from under her bead. She took out a flat piece of metal and a teapot. She put the metal plate on her table and tapped her wand with it before going to the bathroom to fill the teapot. She came back and placed the teapot on the plate, taking another stabilizing breath before shuffling around in the trunk for a cup.

By the time there was a knock on her door she was already settled in with a book.

She went to it curiously and answered it cautiously.

"Let me in!" The squeaky voice could only be Flitwick.

She opened her door and ushered him in, vaguely wondering if she could find another teacup, but he solved the problem by conjuring one himself before helping himself to her kettle.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked.

"It seems like there's a certain member of Hogwarts that is convinced there is a disappearing intruder in the castle," Flitwick said wryly.

"Oh, good grief!" Hermione slapped her forehead with her hand. "I thought I might have slipped by."

"Apparently not." Flitwick looked amused as he poured himself a cup of tea. "Care to explain what happened?"

Hermione let her cheeks go pink. She knew he would understand, but it was all so embarrassing!

"He's been practicing a piece I really like and I lost track of time," Hermione said vaguely.

"Could happen to anyone," Flitwick said reassuringly, but Hermione knew that look in his eyes.

When she had first come to live in the castle both he and Professor Sinistra had met her in her new quarters with a surprise.

It was clearly decorated with a Gryffindor in mind with its rich burgundy fabrics and gleaming brass accents. She had nearly been expecting that, but what she hadn't been expecting was the photo album.

It was packed with pictures from her life she'd forgotten about. She had choked when she saw the one of her stirring a cauldron on the floor of the girls' bathroom.

"How did you get that?!" She had squeaked out, praying Professor Snape didn't know about it. She turned the page to see a picture of her in cat form. She squeaked.

"Myrtle keeps a file on all the misdoings in her bathroom," Sinistra said knowingly. "Tired of getting blamed for everything. Afraid she'd get it from the house-elves for the scorch marks on the tile."

Hermione let out a breath of relief. "It's not going to get me fired, is it?" Hermione asked in a shaky voice, trying to laugh but it came out entirely too nervous.

"I doubt it." Sinistra snorted. "McGonagall helped us put this together."

The other professors both laughed at Hermione's expression.

"They get newer as you get near the back," Sinistra explained.

Hermione had thanked them profusely and they had shared some cakes and tea for her 'room-warming' party.

Hermione had taken a much longer time to look it over later. Not only was it from Hogwarts, but other times as well. She, Harry, and Ron sneaking around the school. Several from the Yule Ball. Quite a few from her wedding: pictures she had never seen before. They led into a good deal of pages of Hugo and Rose sneaking around the castle.

Hermione had laughed and wiped away the tears that had run down her cheeks. There had never really been any hope for the pair, having a good dose of Weasley genes. Ron had intercepted the letters from Hogwarts for some time, thinking Hermione would explode, but in the end she had found a stack of them tied together with a neat length of twine and hidden at the bottom of his sock drawer.

To her relief, the tone of them went from concern, to bewilderment, to genuine amusement.

She had put the letters back where she had found them and consoled herself with the knowledge that McGonagall would probably have let her know if they had done something serious.

Now she had photographic evidence. Not that it would do her a lot of good with the both of them out of the house, but she planned on cherishing them until she happily showed them to her grandchildren.

The imagined looks of dismay on her children's faces made her cackle quietly to herself.

But she knew what he had meant about losing track of the time. It was easy to lose herself in the realm of memory. The music helped her focus on anything but her memories.

"You should keep spying on him," Flitwick assured her and she stiffened at the comment. "You look like you're getting more rest. As If you've been letting your brain take a bit of a holiday."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose that's what I do. It would probably be better for everyone if I just got a wireless."

Flitwick waved her off. "He needs someone to listen to him just as much as you need to hear it," he said vaguely.

He drained his cup quickly and made it disappear. "Just thought I'd let you know before you heard it somewhere you don't expect it."

"Thank you," she said, and she meant it.

* * *

"I'd like to bring attention to the dungeons," Snape said levelly.

The rest of the staff looked at him, waiting for him to say why. All except for Flitwick and Hermione, who tried to look innocent.

"I'd go as far to say someone, or something, is skulking about after hours," Snape said in a grave tone.

"What are they doing?" McGonagall asked him, frowning.

"I don't know yet," Snape said darkly. "Who knows where people's motivations lie?"

"Or where house elves decide to do their cleaning," Hermione added, a little louder than she would have normally. Several other teachers chuckled. Snape glared at her. She went completely red, mostly from nervousness, but she hoped it looked as if it were from embarrassment. She avoided Snape's eyes.

"I think you should do some more investigation," McGonagall said with a frown. "Even if the intention is innocent we can't have people running around the dungeons at night."

"Would you like a volunteer to help you?" Flitwick asked and Hermione pinched him, causing him to jump.

"Thank you, Filius, but I think I'll be fine. I just thought people should be looking out for other things that seem out of place," Snape said coolly.

"We'll keep that in mind, thank you," McGonagall told him. "If that is all, I believe we are done."

The teachers dispersed and Hermione exchanged a look with Flitwick as they rounded a corner away from the others. They giggled.

"What did you do?" he demanded to know.

She told him, but it only caused him to laugh harder. "You're going to hurt yourself, doing that sort of thing at your age."

She made a face at him. "Next time I'll take a joint potion beforehand and see if I can get my hands on an invisibility cloak."

Flitwick shook his head. "You kids never change."

* * *

Hermione slid the door to the laundry chute open and she slipped quietly from it. She pulled the invisibility cloak around her tighter and waited a moment. The music was going at full volume. There was no way he could have heard anything.

She snuck out of the room and into the hall. The hallway torches were bright tonight, as if he thought the light would frighten prowlers away. She snorted.

She made her way to the room, and this time leaned against the wall, instead of sitting down on the floor. It sounded as if he were playing the French horn.

She heard him make some sort of plastic clicking noise and the room fell silent. Gently, the music began to swell and he began reading part of the tale.

Hermione tilted her head to one side as she realized he was recording himself.

Well, for all she knew, he was just recording to catch any strange sounds in the dungeon. For instance: the sound of a clumsy coworker ramming themselves into a door.

Hermione closed her eyes and sank into the story.

His voice really was soothing, the improvements he was making with the music helped it, but the power truly was all in his voice.

She could feel the snow crunching underfoot. The smell of the forest. The weight of the gun in her hands.

She couldn't imagine why he was working so hard at this project unless he was getting ready to market a recorded sleep-aid. It was certainly working its magic on her.

She hadn't slept this well in ages. The color was coming back to her cheeks and she noticed a few less grey hairs than she had several weeks past. Her dreams had initially been dark, but then she realized she had begun to hear music in the darkness, pulling her away from herself and into a safe place, where the only enemy was a giant wolf, and she the hunter of it.

The dreams were exhilarating. She had gained several companions, her favorite was a little bird named Sasha that flew around the sky, tracking paw prints and scouting the forest.

And she knew the forest. Knew it by heart, even though she didn't know why.

The dreams relaxed her and took her away from the real world. It gave her a place to heal, and for that, she was thankful.

She had mused about making her own recording, but somehow it had seemed worse than spying. Now that she knew he was making his own she wondered how she could get herself a copy.

The session came to a close and Hermione made her way back to the laundry chute. She noticed her invisibility cloak made a shadow like swirling smoke on the brightly-lit wall. She hadn't felt like asking Harry for his. She knew he would mind his own business if she told him to, but this wasn't a big enough thing to keep secret and she knew he'd never let her live it down.

_'Professor Weasley! Another excuse to be skulking around the castle at night, no doubt!'_

Hermione nearly giggled at the memory of Harry's impression of Snape when she told him she would be moving to the castle.

_'None of that was ever my fault!_ She had protested. _'Someone had to keep you from losing us the House Cup every year!_

_'Bah!' _Harry had replied, much to the amusement of everyone in the room._ 'You've had more than enough time to learn troublemaking from those Weasleys.' _Harry's sneer had been comical._ 'You've even spawned more into this pitiful existence we call life.'_

She hurried to the chute before she could burst out laughing. The memory had taken place in early August: one of the giant Weasley feasts Molly so liked planning. The first without Ron.

George, in typical mourning, had decided the perfect distraction was to have a fireworks display so enormous that Ministry officials had shown up to scold him.

Of course, they had left with plates of food and pockets full of firecrackers. God help the Ministry the next Monday morning.

Against all odds, they had managed to keep the mood cheerful. Bill had a painting of Ron commissioned and although it wasn't complete, the sketch had been able to attend, the frame garlanded with flowers.

Ron's sketch had nodded firmly, crossing its charcoaled arms at Harry's impression. She had rolled her eyes at the both of them.

She nearly regretted giving the portrait up to Molly without a fight. It would be nice to have Ron around from time to time, just to talk to. She had reasoned that it would be hers when her mother-in-law died, so it wouldn't be like she would never have it.

Then she realized what a horrible thought that was.

Another part of her reasoned that it was normal to rethink the realities of mortality when one has lost a loved one.

Yet another wondered if this sort of cold thinking was normal.

Sometimes she felt as if she were going mad. Not all the time. Just those times late at night, or in the afternoon when her classes were done, when her mind had enough time to wander and no distractions to stop it.

When she walked into her quarters she felt perfectly relaxed. She didn't want to pick up a book or have a cup of tea; she just wanted the softness of her bed and the comfort of the forest she slipped into behind the safety of her eyelids.

* * *

"I'm glad you decided to join us!" Flitwick squeaked happily. "The first trip to Hogsmede is always a treat!"

Hermione agreed, although she had fought the initial instinct to stay in the castle. But the air had been crisp and Flitwick had bribed her with the promise of a pint and a sack of sweets.

"I still have to go to the post," Sinistra piped up. "Getting a package from my sister. It costs extra to have it sent to the castle." She wrinkled her nose.

"We can't forget that, now, can we?" Flitwick said with a twinkle in his eye.

"You're not getting your grubby hands in it this time," Sinistra said hotly. "Last time you polished off all the biscuits before I got any!"

He waved her off and they continued their walk down to the village. Students skittered past them, trying to beat each other to their respective destinations, and several were waving their wands about, thankful for the one place besides Hogwarts that they could do magic.

Hermione stopped in place as she caught a scent on the breeze: snow, evergreen trees, and the bite of cold air. She stopped for a moment and looked around.

"What is it?" Sinistra asked her.

Hermione shrugged. "Something on the wind. I think we're in for a cold one this year."

"I think Divination was never one of your strong subjects," Flitwick teased her. "The Weather Wizards say this year is supposed to be unseasonably mild."

"Huh," Hermione said as she looked around. "That's strange."

* * *

Hermione gathered her things after the end of her last class and placed them in the deep satchel Ron had given her for her first teaching year. She sighed to herself and rotated her shoulders. She would love to go down to the dungeons tonight, but it was her turn to patrol the halls.

She made her way back to her room, grateful the day was over. She never liked test days. The students were always on edge and it made for insanely quiet class time.

When she opened her door, a sweet-smelling breeze floated through. The house-elves must have been taking advantage of the warm day to air the castle out one more day before the cold started creeping in.

She chose a book from her small shelf and went to her bed. She could read until dinner and then putter about until it was time for her to go on patrol. She settled in and began reading iGreek Transfiguration Theories/i by Alto Puckett.

It was such a nice day. She could hear the birds singing outside and the faint sound of students frolicking on the expanses of grass around the castle.

For a moment she though she heard a hint of music, but it was gone as soon as it had arrived.

She found her arms getting heavier and her eyes started to itch. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the bed.

Dreams were strange things. She couldn't hear the narration, but she sensed it with her entire being. She felt like her person was aware, but had an underlying center of dead calm, as if she knew what were coming. She looked up and a small bird was swooping about, trilling at her with its tiny beak.

She sensed Snape. Well, not him so much, but the calming effect his voice had on her when he wasn't acting so snotty. She realized that when she was listening to him read, not only had she let herself relax and wander, but that she had grown accustomed to associating his voice with comfort.

She doubted it would make her act strange when she was awake, for she i_was_/i completely aware that she was dreaming. It wouldn't do to have her relax every time she heard his voice; the staff meeting had proved it.

She huffed, her breath making a cloud in the cold air. Merlin's ghost, the man was an arse. How did he manage to do it all the time? From the time he got up to when he went to bed he was always sniping at someone. Wasn't it exhausting?

She braced herself as she plodded through the forest, her footsteps being far too deep for her to make much progress. She looked to her left and saw a pair of snowshoes. She went to them and strapped them to her feet. They helped her walk faster and made no noise as she moved, unlike any snowshoes one would ever find in one's waking hours.

She looked behind herself and a large duck was waddling towards her. She smiled and gave it a scratch on its head when it drew close.

She heard a soft sound, as if something were leaping through the branches of the trees, and she knew that was where the cat could be found.

She marched on, looking for any sort of tracks and listening for odd noises. When she investigated noises in her dream, to her astonishment, she was able to identify everything out of place. Snow falling because of squirrels, a bush rattling because of a rabbit, a branch cracking from the weight of the snow: things she would probably never be able to do when she was awake.

She came over a drift and had to stop and look around. Her animal friends gathered around her as she stared. She was looking over a cliff; she had always thought she was in the forest, but she knew now she was only on its edges; the immensity of it stood before her, dense and unimaginably large.

She felt her mouth drop open as her eyes raked it in.

Suddenly she jerked and she was waking up. She stretched as she woke from her nap. Her back popped several times before she got up. After freshening up in her bathroom she strode down the corridor, on her way to the Great Hall.

She took her usual place near Sinistra and the older woman looked her up and down. "Well, you're looking much better than usual."

"Gee, thanks," Hermione said sarcastically. "I took a nap."

"It's nice to know you're finally getting some sleep," Sinistra said seriously. "We were starting to worry about you."

"I'm doing a lot better lately," Hermione said truthfully. "I think I'm finally settling in."

"It's much easier the second time around." Flitwick nodded. "When you're a first year it can be a bit much."

Hermione chuckled and nodded. It rather _was_ like being a first year again, but she was getting used to the sounds of the castle and the peace she was finally getting while she slept.


	2. Chapter 2

There was an unfamiliar sound above, and Sasha, the bird, flittered close to Hermione's head, finally trying to bury itself in her hood.

Hermione looked up and saw a falcon circling the sky. Well, there were supposed to be hunters. Perhaps they were falconers.

She walked on, not afraid to meet them. In the tale they had been protective and no threat. She wondered what would happen if she found them.

The merry band walked on for some time before Hermione heard a voice. She knew there was nothing to fear, but her instinct insisted she be cautious.

There was smoke in the air and the sound of someone setting up camp. Then something bigger; large enough to make noise on its own without the help of the bushes and packed snow.

Hermione peered through a hole in the dense foliage and to her surprise she saw Snape, doing exactly what it had sounded like. Then a giant form loomed above him and she gasped as the wolf, huge and dark, appeared close to Snape.

It was as terrifying as it had been in the tales. Yellow eyes and giant teeth; the air of something feral and dangerous.

Then Snape reached up to scratch it behind the ear and its tongue lolled out happily.

Hermione's hand slipped and she broke a dry branch from the overgrowth she was holding on to.

Snape and the wolf both snapped their attention to her.

She gasped as she sat straight up in her bed. She panted for a moment before she realized she was alone in her room. She almost expected to see Snape waiting for her, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, but there was no one.

She checked the clock on her wall and saw that it was still a few hours until she had to get up and tried to settle back into her covers, but she only slept lightly until she gave in and got up.

She slid carefully from the laundry chute and gently touched a toe to the floor. She was early, perhaps too early, for she didn't hear anything coming from the room he usually used. She tiptoed down the hall and looked in.

She was wrong; he was here, looking over sheets of music that looked ancient. He turned a page and picked up a violin.

It wasn't a familiar tune, but it resonated with Hermione. Some part of her knew it, she was sure. She smelled the ocean and felt the rock of waves beneath her feet. She sighed and he stopped playing and froze, his eyes darting around to catch a glimpse of something, but there was nothing. Just the coldness of the castle and the occasional dripping of water.

She stood transfixed. So this was what musical enchantments could do. The only time she had ever seen an example of it had been when she had watched an enchanted harp lull Hagrid's giant three-headed dog to sleep so many years ago.

She slid away from the doorway and took her place leaning against the wall in the corridor.

To her surprise, this evening there was no recording. He didn't even touch Peter and the Wolf. She didn't recognize anything he chose to play, although all of them sounded as if they could have been used as an example for her Renaissance Music class at university.

They each seemed to evoke a feeling from her, more than mere Muggle music would have been able to. She could smell the streets of Paris, filled with bread and perfume, her slippered feet slide over polished marble floors, the jostling of riding a horse through a field in the spring: the wind in her hair and the sounds of life around her.

She closed her eyes and let her mind wander. In his songs, she was always so happy. Things were uncomplicated and she knew what she was expected to do. Hunt a wolf. Ride a horse. Dance.

When he was through, she slipped away as if in a daze. She was drunk on the music, except this time it really did feel as if she had polished off a bottle of wine by herself.

She made her way back to her room, pausing to do a few dance steps when the door was shut behind her. She wanted to dance again.

The swell of skirts around her legs and a gloved hand gently lit upon the shoulder of a silk jacket. A strong hand around her waist and the warmth of someone so near.

She slipped out of her robes and into her bed, the cool cotton sheets cooling her off. She must be flushed. She certainly felt like it.

She sighed deeply as the memory of the music washed over her, the last of the enchantment riding its course.

In her mind the dancing turned horizontal when she lay down, and now she was sure her cheeks were burning.

Firm kisses and a singular goal: she felt the ghost of strong hands pushing those skirts up and the frenzied kisses on her collarbone.

She dipped a hand below her waist and let it overtake her. Primal and sensuous, fast and reckless.

She cried out as she climaxed and soon drifted off to sleep. She dreamed of dancing.

His music was like a drug. No one had warned her, but then again, she doubted anyone had stalked him like she did.

Tonight he was back to Peter and the Wolf. She found herself slightly disappointed, and then blushed at herself. She came down here to enjoy the music, not get off on enchantments.

Didn't she?

She decided she wasn't interested in pursuing that direction of thought at this time and settled into her usual place.

She almost giggled as he brought out the kettle-drums. She risked poking her head around the corner to see him beating on them with a scowl, his hair flying about and the white arms of his shirt flowing through the air.

She sighed deeply and slipped around the corner again.

Her eyes opened wide.

Did she really just sigh over Snape the same way she had done with Lockhart her second year? i_Seriously?!_/i

She opened her mouth and pulled a face. She didn't even know what to think.

She shook her head for a moment before she stormed back to the laundry chute. She didn't even care if he heard it. She climbed into the chute and snapped it shut before stomping back to her room to make a cup of tea.

She may have put the kettle down a bit roughly. She shocked herself with the 'BANG' and tried to regain her senses.

She loved music. He was good at making it. That's all that sigh was about.

The image of him in hunters' clothing flashed through her mind, a giant beast by his side. She felt her cheeks flush and it annoyed her even more.

She tried to calm down. This was insane.

There was a quiet knock on her door and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

She went to it and was relieved to see Flitwick.

"What did you do?" He asked curiously.

"What makes you think I did anything?" Hermione asked quickly. Far too quickly.

"Because you look like you've seen a werewolf and Severus is down in the faculty room flapping his arms and making noises about spies and conspiracies." He strode into her rooms and she was glad to close the door behind him.

"Oh, Gods," Hermione groaned.

He shuffled over to her small table and climbed up onto a chair. "What did you do?" he repeated, this time one eyebrow rose as he conjured himself a cup.

"I—I think I'm getting rather too attached to listening to him," Hermione said firmly as the kettle began whistling. "The enchantments are addling my senses. I even came home drunk last night!"

"And, so, of course you went back tonight." Flitwick prompted her, looking altogether too amused.

She huffed in an irritated fashion as she poured the tea. She settled down in the other chair and looked at the little man. "I don't know. Maybe this time I realized what I was doing. I had to leave."

"What is it you're doing?" Flitwick asked as he took a drink.

"I—I think I'm abusing the music," Hermione confessed, her voice a whisper.

Flitwick gave her a pitying look. "You think you're the first person to drown their sorrows in music?"

"This is enchanted music!" Hermione protested, but he just waved her off.

"Relaxation charms." Flitwick snorted. "If it bothers you so much use the Room of Requirement for meditation."

Hermione thought for a moment. "That might work."

"You worry too much," Flitwick said, shaking his head.

Hermione made her way down to the dungeons, trying to let go of the guilty feelings she was harboring.

It was only music. The only release she was afforded these days. She should be enjoying it. Flitwick was right.

She unpacked herself from the laundry chute, strains of music already filling the air. It was something she didn't recognize, again, but it wasn't what he had been practicing last time.

This time it was light and airy, something with piccolos and clarinets. It was a distraction from his usual dramatics and she settled into her place in the hallway comfortably.

It cheered her. Made her think of when she was still young and vibrant, with a new wand and a trunk full of books on magic.

She had been so afraid of being behind, she had drilled herself mercilessly before arriving at Hogwarts. She had been embarrassed when she had found out that none of the first years knew any magic she had tried to cover it up by showing off, which had backfired spectacularly.

She was lucky to have had Harry and Ron. She'd take the pair of them over Lavender and Parvati any day. Gods, she'd have roomed with them if she could have. That would have saved her numerous headaches from both arguing and the over-perfumed cosmetics scattered all over the room.

Well, they had made sure she wasn't a fright at the Yule Ball. That was nice of them.

There was a pause in the music and the sound of him scribbling furiously on parchment.

Her shoulders relaxed and she stretched her back, trying to make it lay flat against the stone wall. It caused her lower back to relax and she quietly sighed.

Suddenly, she burped.

Her mouth made a small 'o' shape as the situation hit her. Footsteps were stomping towards the door and she had to run. She didn't have a true invisibility cloak like Harry, just a standard, modern one. One that made a shadow on the wall like smoke.

_iDamn him for making it brighter down here!/i_

She scrambled down the hall, nearly swearing as she stepped on the edge of her cloak and tripped herself.

She knew he was in the hallway before she rounded the corner, into the room with the open laundry chute.

He didn't move fast.

_iHe must not know about the chutes. He thinks he's cornered me!/i_

Hermione dove into the chute and snapped the door shut. She banged on the side of the wall to get it to shoot off, and she squeaked in surprise as her cloak was whipped off her as she was whisked off.

iThe edge! It must have caught in the door!/i

She pressed her lips together. If he looked closely enough, he just might find it. She didn't know how much was hanging out of the chute, but no one ever had a problem finding Harry's cloak when he wasn't wearing it, and hers was the same.

She swore now, and loudly. She arrived at her destination and plodded to her room. She sat down in one of her little chairs with a loud groan. She waved her wand and the kettle, full of water conjured from the kitchens began preparing itself.

She kept expecting Flitwick to show up, but he never did.

She felt stupid. She knew she should have never eaten a second helping of soup for dinner. It had a history of giving her heartburn, and tonight was no exception.

"Proof!"

Severus snarled as he shook Hermione's invisibility cloak in his fist. She sank further into her chair. Flitwick had noticed.

"Proof of what, pray tell?" Sinistra asked, in far too innocent a tone.

"That someone is slipping around the castle, spying on persons unknown. I could just be one target!" He drew himself up to his full height and scowled at those sitting around him.

"I'm not sure finding a cloak in a laundry chute is proof of anything, Severus," McGonagall said slowly. "But I do understand your concern. Was there anything on the cloak? A hair, perhaps?"

"According to the house-elves, the chutes have an enchantment on them that removes bits of debris from the cloth before the items arrive in the laundry room." Snape frowned. "Whoever this was, they planned their escape well."

Hermione disguised a laugh as a cough, which didn't go unnoticed by McGonagall. Flitwick's eyes narrowed further, but Snape was so wound up he just threw her a look before going back to glaring at the other faculty.

"I think we'll all be alert to invisibility cloaks around the castle," McGonagall looked at each of the teachers in turn, her eyes furrowing slightly when they got to Hermione. "It wouldn't do to have chaos in the castle. Again."

"We should start by having those chutes locked up!" Severus growled.

"I'll talk to the house-elves about having them charmed against student abuse." McGonagall said, but Hermione had a feeling that McGonagall already knew they had been.

This seemed to satisfy Snape, who swept from the room dramatically when the meeting was over.

"Professor Weasley, Flitwick, could you please stay a moment. I'd like to talk to you about castle security." McGonagall shuffled some papers about until they were the only three left in the room.

She narrowed her eyes at Hermione. "What have you done to poor Severus?"

"I didn't mean to!" Hermione blurted out, but she suspected she sounded whiny.

"You've gotten rusty with the whole 'sneaking' bit, haven't you?" Flitwick asked, his voice full of amusement.

Hermione threw him a look, but McGonagall interrupted Hermione's protest. "Don't encourage her."

Hermione had scowled as fiercely as Snape had and Flitwick choked back a laugh.

"I appreciate the fact that you enjoy music, Hermione, but must you insist on driving Severus insane while you do it?" McGonagall fixed her gaze on Hermione, who found herself incapable of doing anything besides blushing.

"Perhaps I need to come up with something else," Hermione said lamely.

"I think you ought to before he tears the castle apart." McGonagall looked from Hermione to Flitwick and back again. "I mean it."

"Yes, Headmistress," Hermione said reluctantly.

The Room of Requirement, it was.

Hermione passed the space in the hallway three times and the door finally appeared. She walked into Snape's music room.

She groaned.

At least all the instruments were already set up, suspended in mid-air. She looked around. No one would ever need know about this, what was she so afraid of?

She walked in and lay herself on a long, cushiony couch. The instruments tuned themselves for a moment before starting the opening to Peter and the Wolf.

Hermione vaguely wondered what would happen if she fell asleep in the Room of Requirement, but tried to put it out of her mind.

At first she jumped when Snape's voice started, but she relaxed when she realized the Room was mimicking his narration.

This was far more comfortable than that dirty old dungeon hallway, that was for sure.

She drifted, but she didn't fall asleep. After the piece was done she felt ready for bed. The instruments put themselves away as she rose and stretched.

It would be better this way. No one would ever know and Snape wouldn't be driven insane. She'd have to thank Flitwick later.

"Well, you're looking bright and Severus is brooding into his coffee, as usual." Sinistra plunked herself into the seat near Hermione. "I'm guessing Filius' advice was worth something?"

Hermione nodded. "It was brilliant. I'm just angry I didn't think of it before."

Sinistra shrugged. "He's been around longer. He knows what the Room can do better than anyone." She snickered for a moment. "If those walls could talk…"

"I bet!" Hermione giggled. "Was it an original part of the castle?"

"You know, I'm not really sure." Sinistra shook her head. "I'm sure some note of it might be in the old archives—"

"What old archives?" Hermione interrupted her.

Sinistra waved her hand. "It really isn't that exciting. Just a bunch of old books that age hasn't destroyed yet. I think the last one to look at them was that witch that wrote that book on Hogwarts."

i"Hogwarts: A History?"/i Hermione asked.

Thinking Hermione was poking fun at her, Sinistra made a face. "That's the one. I think she squeezed it for everything she could. You're probably already read the interesting parts."

"Unless the Headmaster at the time asked her to leave certain things out." Hermione said thoughtfully. "I doubt any headmaster would like a book with all of Hogwarts' secrets in it."

"I think you're just looking for an excuse," Sinistra said with an arched eyebrow.

That night, Hermione felt rested enough to stay in her quarters, paging through her picture album with a mug of tea. She stopped at one of the Yule Ball and smiled.

Ron was so jealous. He was scowling outright. If Hermione had really known what was going on she'd have grabbed him and kissed him and it would be done.

But, she rather ihad/i liked Viktor and he was in the picture as well, not facing them, but having a word with his Headmaster.

There was a knock at her door and she waved her wand at her pajamas to change into traditional robes.

Sinistra was at the door, looking at Hermione with a strange smile on her face. "I did you a favor. You should thank me."

Hermione stood to the side as Sinistra walked into her quarters, opening a paper bag and bringing out an ancient-looking book.

"They aren't kept in the library or the Headmistress's office," Sinistra explained. "They're in the shelter under the astronomy tower."

"There's a shelter under the astronomy tower?" Hermione asked blankly.

"After that Muggle bomb went off, the early part of last century, a few Muggle-born teachers thought it might be best to prepare for the worst." Sinistra crinkled her nose. "It has the records for magical building should the castle fall into disrepair… or bombed into oblivion."

"Why couldn't they just use the dungeons?" Hermione asked.

"The charms don't work as well if someone is as high up as an airplane. If they're high enough they're not going to get the feeling they've forgotten something and walk away. They'll look down with their binoculars and see people running around." She shrugged. "We really need to update our charms."

Hermione doubted anyone would be running around if an atomic bomb dropped on Hogwarts, but she reasoned that stranger things had happened. She was just pleased that Sinistra knew that binoculars were, so she just nodded.

"Thanks!" Hermione said as Sinistra conjured herself a mug and reached for the teakettle.

"I brought you one of the first ones from the sixteenth-century," Sinistra said with a smirk she tried to hide. "After the big rebuild."

"What rebuild?" Hermione asked blankly.

"Voldemort wasn't the only wizard to do damage to Hogwarts." Sinistra shrugged. "It's been rebuilt a few times. It wasn't this big, at the start."

"That's fascinating!" Hermione fought back the urge to grab at the book and flip through it.

"I'm not sure you'll find anything on the Room of Requirement, but I do know it's the first mention of that part of the castle." Sinistra sipped at her mug. "The first Hall was blown to bits… except for the Great Hall, of course."

"How is it that the Great Hall always seems to survive?" Hermione mused.

"Oh! That's because it's guarded with some ancient blood magicks." Sinistra nodded. "Way back when it was used as a place for judgment and truce-making. You just can't do anything violent in or to the Hall."

"I've seen my fair share of fights in the Hall!" Hermione protested.

Sinistra waved her hand. "When they pull crossbows on each other they'll be a threat."

"Perkins got stabbed in the leg with a fork." Hermione pointed out.

"His sister wasn't trying to kill him, he just kept pissing her off." Sinistra looked fairly amused. "Never try to get between a fourth year and her crush."

"Even if she's half your size and your mother has told you to keep an eye on them." Hermione giggled.

"Amendment Number One:" Sinistra began, reciting from memory. "'Keeping an eye on them' does not mean flinging said sister over one's shoulder and marching them back to the common room."

"Amendment Number Two: No proclamations of duels without the other prospective dueler present." Hermione had begun laughing.

"Amendment Number Three: If said brother gets caught snogging by said sister, he may not subject his housemates to his whining when she hits him with an entertaining curse of some sort."

They both burst out laughing.

"Poor Sprout." Sinistra wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm surprised there was no damage to the Hufflepuff common room."

"Well there was that isolated Blizzard Charm, but that dried out quick enough." Hermione snickered.

"Would have been worse if Romeo was a Hufflepuff," Sinistra pointed out. "The Ravenclaws were pretty good at intervening at his behalf."

"Is that list still hanging in their common room?" Hermione asked.

"Permanent sticking spell after he ripped down the first three." Sinistra laughed.

"Good grief." Hermione shook her head. "They're all a bit mad, aren't they?"

"You love it," Sinistra said with a smirk. "I've seen that look on your face when one of them pulls off something spectacular."

"I realize Filius wanted to keep that bit of swamp—" Hermione began, but Sinistra interrupted with a high-pitched giggle. Hermione continued, "but secretly raising an alligator in it was completely unacceptable."

"Oh, but it was just a baby," Sinistra cooed.

"I'm sure it started that way," Hermione said grumpily. "Hagrid will never convince me that he had nothing to do with it."

"We definitely had a drop-off in the number of wildlife attacks after he retired." Sinistra sighed.

Hermione shook her head as she took a drink from her cup.

"I'm afraid I was just stopping by," Sinistra said guiltily. "I have to start my rounds."

Hermione thanked her again for the book as they finished their tea. She waved Sinistra off as the other woman started down the hall, and she let out a sigh as the tapestry rolled down and she latched her door.

She bustled over to the old book and tested the preservation charms on it. They were still strong, so she didn't have to worry about damaging it from handling.

She tidied up her room and settled into her bed before she began reading.

She wasn't sure when she had fallen asleep, but she was walking through the forest, her toy gun gripped tightly in her hands. A cat was perched on her shoulder; a duck and a small bird circling overhead.

She was tracking, better than she ever had while awake. The signs seemed so obvious to her now. A dip in the snow here. A leaf on the ground there. A snapped twig still hanging from a branch.

She could feel it. Smell it. The wolf was near.

She climbed a tree. It seemed the smart thing to do. She only had a toy gun and she never dreamed about her wand. Her hand went to her jacket just to make sure, but it was gone.

She heard something monstrous moving through the forest. Something that snapped branches and went through the brush with crunching footsteps and a slithering sound.

It was coming nearer and she fought the urge to climb higher. She was already far from the ground, further than she remembered, and the overhead branches were smaller.

There was a loud crunching sound and the wolf broke into the clearing.

It was huge, bigger than last time, and atop his back was Severus Snape. He was sitting tall in a grey saddle, surveying the area around them, the wolf's head mimicking the motions of his head, as if they were one.

Hermione looked down to her footsteps, but they were gone. Such is the nature of dreams, she supposed.

She decided not to do anything. Her friends were in the tree with her, safe from harm. She was sure the wolf wouldn't eat her, and even if he did, so what?

She was sure the lecture from Snape about skulking around the forest wouldn't be half as amusing as she had just imagined.

And… what if it truly was him? What if he was in her dream?

She shook that from her head. That just didn't happen, not even to witches and wizards.

At her request, and a weekend of Weasley merry-making and building, the small cottage was built near the castle, full of Muggle items and things of interest. She thought it would help keep them excited about their project but that had backfired spectacularly when one of her small nieces, to small even for Hogwarts, had pronounced the house 'dead.'

"What do you mean?" Hermione had asked with an astonished look on her face.

"It's not alive yet," the tiny girl had said. "Make it go."

There had been some snorts and giggles at that, but it had make Hermione think.

Then she had the cottage moved far enough away from the castle that electronics could be used. The students reacted far better to Downton Abbey than they had to Arthur's egg beater demonstration, a subject that still rallied amusement from those who were sitting in the back.

But there were still some days…

"Professor Snape says Muggle Studies is a waste of time," the boy told her flatly.

"Then why are you here?" Hermione smiled at him.

"Because it's required for an internship at the Ministry and it's not eating up class time," he told her.

"True. You're here of your own free will. The Ministry wants you to learn something you'll use in your later profession. Doesn't seem like a waste of time to me." She smiled wider.

The boy huffed and said something like 'well, you wouldn't, would you?'

Hermione felt the edges of her mouth turn into a smirk. "I can see Professor Snape saying it's a waste of time. I'll make a deal with you. If you can make it to tomorrow afternoon without the use of Muggle inventions I'll pass you. No more classes."

The boy perked up instantly. "Really?"

"Really," she said. "Just remember, the Muggles invented wicks, weaving, milling, sugar processing, papermaking, the Post, building construction, tools, the use of fire for cooking, and wand-making. To begin with."

His face fell and several other students looked amused.

"Have fun with scavenging for dinner. We'll be waiting for you to appear naked in the gardens so you can demonstrate how to make yourself a nice mat of grass to sleep on." She looked at him pointedly as the small bell ending class rang. "Extra credit to whoever joins him!" She added as the students gathered their things and laughed.

"If I sleep outside can I get extra credit, too?" Hermione's head whipped up from the papers she had been glancing at. Flitwick was walking into the room and looking heartily amused, his hand waving in the air.

Her shoulders sagged. "I feel like a big bully."

"Oh, he deserved it, and he knew it." Flitwick waved her off. "But, you did sound a little like—"

"I know, I know." She rolled her eyes. "Don't remind me." He grinned at her widely. "Why are you out here, anyway?"

"To sign up for the Hufflepuff slumber party."

"Very funny."

"I was teaching growing charms on the pumpkin patch and thought I'd pop in." He shrugged.

"You were checking up on me." She snorted as she lifted a large book to put it on a shelf. "It's only two evening classes a week."

"Just making sure you don't overdo it." He held his hands up.

"Thank you, but it's totally unnecessary."

"Trying to keep yourself busy?" he asked.

"I've been sleeping much better, thank you," she assured him. "The room of Requirement is very helpful."

"Good to hear it," he said with a grin.

Hermione quietly padded to the Room of Requirement. It wasn't as if she were doing anything wrong, but she didn't want to be caught skulking around the castle in her pajamas.

It wasn't far from the laundry chute, but she was cautious, just the same.

She walked into the familiar room and settled onto the couch. The instruments tuned themselves as she closed her eyes.

There was an unfamiliar shuffling noise and she opened her eyes, and then started. She closed her eyes for a moment. Just because the room had never produced copies of people there was no reason why it couldn't. Just poppets of people, she was sure.

At least, that's how she rationalized the appearance of Severus Snape.

When she had reacted to him, he had looked at her for a moment as if he didn't know she was there. He stared at her for a moment before going back to what he was doing.

Hermione swallowed. Surely he would have said something if he had been real. Shouted at her, swore at her, anything but this stony silence.

The Room for some reason thought she needed him, so he had appeared. It had recreated his voice so well; there was no reason why it wouldn't be able to recreate Snape. Perhaps it was a mouse, transfigured and enchanted.

Her mind flitted to Aberforth Dumbledore for a moment, but she pushed it from her mind.

She lay back down and closed her eyes. After a short while the music started up.

He played through the entire piece once. It was something Hermione did not know, but it was full of deep tones and haunting notes. When she opened her eyes he was in shirtsleeves and a bassoon was on his hands.

Her eyes met his for a moment and they glittered at her.

Why had the room created him? The music would have been enough for her. There must be something, some reason why the Room thought he needed to be here.

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes tight. He may be here, but she didn't have to look at him.

The longer he played, the more relaxed she became and after several lines, she began dozing off.

She awoke to a room of instruments, but no sign of Snape. She let out a sigh of relief and sat up. She stretched and her back popped several times. She wondered what time it was, but had a feeling morning was still a long way off.

She slipped from the Room and sneaked to the laundry chute that dropped her off near her quarters.

"Read anything interesting lately?" Sinistra grinned at Hermione, a twinkle in her eyes.

"Not as much as I'd like, I'm afraid," Hermione admitted as she took her place at the faculty table. "The extra evening class has been eating up my time."

"Are you sure you're not overdoing it?" Sinistra asked, her lips pursed suspiciously.

"I swear, I'm not. Muggle Studies is a piece of cake," Hermione assured her. She reached for a dinner roll. "Besides, Filius is already checking up on me."

Sinistra rolled her eyes. "Of course he is."

"You know him." Hermione shrugged. "He's like a mother hen."

"I heard that." Flitwick climbed into the chair near Sinistra and gave them a faux scowl.

Hermione snorted. "You'd trumpet it from the rafters if we let you."

He harrumphed at her, but looked cheerful after he had made the token noise. "Been sleeping well?"

"I've been sleeping great!" Hermione confirmed. "And I haven't even been going to the Room often."

"It gets easier," Sinistra said sympathetically.

"And Severus hasn't had a fit in nearly a week," Flitwick chimed in. Sinistra nodded in agreement. "It's nearly been peaceful!"

"Except for that exploding toilet incident." Sinistra corrected him.

Flitwick winced. "I'd forgotten about that."

"Well, at least _I_ haven't caused mayhem," Hermione said helpfully.

"Cheers!" Flitwick said and the other two raised their glasses before drinking.

"What are you three celebrating?" McGonagall leaned over as she passed them on the way to her seat.

"Not causing mayhem," Hermione said, promptly realizing how thin that excuse sounded.

McGonagall snorted. "Indeed."

The Headmistress continued on to her own seat as Flitwick and Sinistra dissolved into giggles.

Hermione was curled up on the couch in the Room of Requirement when the music stopped. She looked up and Snape was there. She had no idea when he appeared, or how he did, but sometimes he showed up and sometimes he didn't.

Tonight it was Peter and the Wolf again, but the music kept stopping so he could make adjustments. Hermione decided it was to make the experience more authentic.

He finally stopped and went to another tune. Soft and silky, winding its way around her senses. She sighed and relaxed. This was something different. Something that slid her into a stack of memories, flipping by each of them in turn.

The kiss from Viktor. From Ron. From several boys she had met at uni. Meeting Ron again, all grown up and less foolish than she had remembered him. Ten years can do that to a person. The kiss that brought them back together.

Stars exploded behind her eyes, just as they had done in the past. His hands on her back, sliding down to her waist. She sighed as her body responded.

They had gone back to her first flat and had kissed for hours on her tiny single bed. Clothing had come off and soft strokes slid over bare skin, but he hadn't been the way he had been as a teenager. Thoughtful. Unflustered. Unhurried.

They had lain next to each other and had slept without making love. Honestly, she would have been more than happy, but Ron had muttered something about doing it right this time and they had slept spooning each other, and not just because Hermione had a single bed.

Instead of making her sad, she felt content. She felt herself lightly touching herself. Snape was just a construct; she could ignore him as easily. Her fingers traced over her face and shoulders, she shied away as if they were a lovers. Between her breasts and down to her hips, opening her legs and stroking her thighs.

Her voice hitched and she jerked as she found the right spot. She giggled. The whole thing just felt so naughty.

She finished fairly quickly, but she had gone higher, flew longer than she had thought she would. She stretched and her back popped. The music was still going, but she just couldn't look over to Snape. She turned over to face the back of the couch, settled herself in and slept.

"You look almost human again." Sinistra joked as Hermione sat down at the Head Table for lunch.

"I feel wonderful," Hermione said. "I've been getting real sleep and classes are going smoothly."

"I hear there might be an extension of Muggle Studies." Flitwick plopped himself beside Hermione. "What's all this?"

"They need to learn how to use Muggle money." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not overdoing it!"

"What's this plan?" Sinistra asked.

"On the weekends, for extra credit, Muggle Studies is going to run a small stall in the courtyard." Hermione explained. "Selling candies and things. The hardest part is convincing Gringotts to set up a small stand to convert money."

Sinistra made a face. "I've forgotten about that."

"I think I may be able to help," Flitwick said thoughtfully. "One of the managing goblins owes me a favor. Problem with a broken lock."

"If you could help, it would be wonderful," Hermione hinted.

"I'll see what I can do." He smiled at her.

"Have you even gotten a chance to look over the archives?" Sinistra teased.

"I have." Hermione confirmed. "I'm working backwards. Apparently during an unusually cold winter it was used as a warming room."

Flitwick nodded sagely. "The castle was supposed to be quite uncomfortable at one time."

"That's when they changed the student housing around," Hermione said excitedly. "Separated everyone out by year so the rooms would be smaller. Easier to heat."

Flitwick chuckled. "Well, i'_Hogwarts: A History'/i _could only be so long. I'm sure there were many things that were left out."

"At the rate I'm going I'll never get through." Hermione admitted.

"When do you find the time?" Flitwick asked.

"You don't find time." Hermione said with a grin. "You make it."


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione stalked through the snow, holding a pop-gun to her chest. She knew the wolf was nowhere to be found. She had the impression of overlaying music in her mind, but she couldn't hear it outright.

She kept walking, becoming more confident with each step. Her walking was coming easier, as if the snow wasn't holding her back like it once was. She looked down to see if snowshoes had appeared on her feet and she abruptly stopped walking.

She had wolf paws, not feet, and she hadn't even noticed that she was no longer holding a pop gun.

She smelled something that made her raise her head and sniff. Spices, sandalwood, cooking food.

She loped towards the smell, sensing that it was the sign of something friendly. She broke into a small clearing and stopped when her eyes met Snape's.

He was as he was before, but this time the food was ready and set out. Hermione's mouth watered and she cautiously stepped forward.

He smiled at her. More of a smirk, but still more genuine and warm than Hermione had ever seen.

He made a clicking sound with his tongue and patted a space beside him. Hermione felt compelled to join him, so she trotted over to him and settled into the snow.

He stroked her fur, his slender fingers working through any knot he came across.

She sighed and he passed her a helping of meat. She gulped it down and it was far more delicious than anything she had ever tasted.

He put an arm around her and she settled in. It was so comfortable, how could she not?

He poked at the fire as he hummed Peter and the Wolf and she snuggled closer to him. She closed her eyes and faded into the darkness of dreamless sleep.

* * *

She avoided his eyes all day long, going as far as jumping into an abandoned classroom and hiding behind the door.

She couldn't help herself. She had seen him in an entirely different light in her dream and she couldn't shake it. By the end of the day she was jumping at the sound of swishing robes and taking her dinner with the house-elves instead of in the Great Hall.

As she paced in front of the Room of Requirement she tried to think about one of the other pieces she had been introduced to.

She walked into the room and unceremoniously flopped onto the bed that appeared instead of the couch. After the last time on the couch she had a sore neck for two days.

The music started and she closed her eyes. As soon as she began to drift off, the music stopped.

She opened her eyes and saw that the instruments had disappeared. In their place was a piano and Snape was just sitting down to it.

She sighed. If the room wanted him here, then here he would be. At least it wasn't the real Snape.

He began playing Peter and the Wolf, but not any version she had heard. There were no words, but the story played itself out just the same.

She thought of her dream, how it felt to have his hands stroking her. She let her hands wander over herself.

The music never stopped, but she looked up at the sound of footsteps. He was standing over her and the piano was playing itself.

Her eyes raked over him in spite of herself. His face was soft, his lips parted as his eyes slid over her. Her eyes fell on his growing member and she bit her bottom lip. She felt one of her eyebrows twitch and he smirked.

He leaned his pelvis forward, stretching his trousers. She reached up cautiously, hesitating before running her fingers lightly over him. His eyelids fluttered and she heard his voice catch in his throat.

She tugged at his zipper and he jumped at her touch. She drew him out and licked her lips.

She stopped touching herself and knelt on the low bed. She looked up at him as she began to touch him.

He let out a small cry that sounded completely helpless.

She moved faster, manipulating the sounds he made and enjoying the sway she held over him. When she had had enough she pulled him onto the bed.

To her surprise, he began responding, kissing her neck and chest and stroking her back; in return she buried her fingers in his hair.

He kissed her mouth and her mind flew. It had been so long since she had been kissed like this.

When she and Ron were young it was passionate, but over time and through middle-age they had settled into a comfortable routine. It was satisfying, but nothing like this.

She would have felt bad if she were starting another relationship, even embarrassed, but if the Room thought she needed a roll in the hay who was she to argue?

Snape tugged her robes up and she gasped. Finally he found a spot to nestle in and he began rocking her.

Her eyes widened and he kissed at her more furiously. She began to squirm and groan, but he held her tight and stayed at a steady rhythm. She shuddered and cried out as she reached her pleasure.

He thrust into her furiously and she rolled her body against him, gripping his clothing in her fists.

He flipped the both of them so she was on top and he ripped the front of her robes open. She put a hand on either side of him and began pounding.

To her surprise, he cried out as he finished: wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close.

He held her tight for a few moments before loosening his grip on her. She slid off him and searched for her wand to clean them both and to repair her robes. She lay beside him, an arm thrown over him and his curved around her. He kissed her on the forehead before settling in. Moments later he was breathing deeply and snoring like a thunderstorm.

Hermione chuckled to herself. It wouldn't do to sleep here all night and the Room knew it. They still didn't know everything about it, but she never failed to be amazed whenever it did something amazing. Like a not-so-subtle alarm to prevent her from staying the night.

She stretched and disentangled herself from him. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and looked down at him.

He really wasn't bad looking when he wasn't scowling. She felt a corner of her mouth creep up and she chuckled.

He had never looked like this before. It was obvious that the room had romanticized him for her benefit. How else could she explain the things she'd never noticed before? The curve of his nose, the slope of his ears, the long eyelashes.

She sighed as she stood up and she ran her hands over her robes to smooth them down before stepping out into the hall.

* * *

"Well, you're looking chipper this morning!" Flitwick remarked as he plunked down into his seat during breakfast.

Hermione nearly choked on her tea.

"Got a special lesson tonight!" Sinistra beamed. "Venus is going to be in a most unusual place!"

Flitwick chuckled. "Going to tell us anymore?"

"Spoilers." Sinistra clucked her tongue.

The little man rolled his eyes at her and busied himself with shelling a hard-boiled egg. "One day you'll trust us not to tip off the students."

"Fat chance." Sinistra sniffed.

"And what about you? Gotten any further in the archives?" Flitwick asked.

Hermione groaned.

"I told you, you were taking on too much!" Sinistra scolded her. "See where it's gotten you?"

"I know, I know!" Hermione moaned. "But I'm finally getting sleep…" She trailed off knowing how lame she sounded, but no one else seemed to notice.

"Well, that's good to hear!" Flitwick popped the egg into his mouth and nodded.

"You're so unused to sleep you're bursting full of energy." Sinistra giggled. "Get a calming potion from—"

"I'm getting sick of taking potions!" Hermione groused. "I know they're supposed to be safe, but I just don't think it's good to be drinking them all the time."

"Professor Weasley is correct." A deep voice behind Hermione made her jump. "Potion popping is becoming a serious problem."

"Well, you're up early, Severus!" Flitwick beamed widely. "Join us!"

To Hermione's horror, Snape swept into the seat next to Flitwick and flicked his wand towards a pot of coffee.

"Surely just taking a calming draught in the evening can't cause any harm?" Sinistra asked. "There's a whole industry around it!"

"If any of it worked there wouldn't be a need for an industry." Snape pointed out. Hermione busied herself with her meal. With any luck he'd ignore her like he usually did. "How many potions have you been taking?"

Hermione almost squeaked when she realized he was talking to her. She calmed herself down before spearing a sausage with her fork. "Not many these days. I'm finally getting settled in."

Snape nodded but said nothing. She briefly wondered what it was like when he had come to Hogwarts. Was he already moved in when James and Lily Potter had been killed? What had happened to his own family?

"I'm sure having all your meals prepared for you is somewhat of a perk!" Flitwick grabbed an orange and carefully broke the skin with his knife. He set it down and picked at the fruit with his fingers.

"I'm sure it was, for you!" Sinistra snorted. "I swear you eat three times as much as everyone else!"

"And yet, I manage to keep my girlish figure," Flitwick smiled and scrunched his nose up.

Thankfully, there were no more surprises during breakfast and Hermione managed to slip off, leaving the rest of the professors behind. She didn't breathe normally until she was in her quarters.

* * *

When she entered the room he was already there: his back to her and his hair hanging loose around his shoulders. She watched him silently for a moment, wondering what the room had in store for her.

A silky tune started with percussion softly joining it. It reminded her of the wind in the desert and the scent of open markets and spices.

The walls churned and turned into thick hangings, the floor to intricate rugs, her couch to a lounging platform decorated with silk pillows. She made her way to it quietly, slipping onto it and making herself comfortable. She accidentally bumped a large pink pillow to the floor and as it rolled over to him, Snape looked up and met her eyes.

Was it her imagination or did he blush? What did the Room think she needed?

He made notations on the score in front of him and the music changed into something deeper, something that took over her senses and made her cheeks hot.

He put the quill down and walked towards her.

* * *

"Anything interesting?"

Hermione jumped as the voice came from over her shoulder.

"I didn't hear you come in." Hermione grinned sheepishly. "According to most of the records the Room was used for storage."

"How far back have you gotten?" Flitwick asked her.

"Sixteenth century." She made a face. "It's awfully dry reading."

"I've been on working on a charm for that." Flitwick walked to a cabinet in the Faculty room and rustled around until he came up with a bottle. "Something to cut down on research time."

"Well, let me know when you've got it working. I could use it."

Flitwick snorted. "You and everyone else. You know, you might try asking the Room. You spend enough time in there, it might just tell you."

Hermione quirked a corner of her mouth as she closed the thick book. She ran her hands through her hair without thinking, and then scowled at what she knew she must look like. She nodded at the bottle. "Don't you have rounds later?"

Flitwick snorted. "Hours from now and I'm not taking the whole bottle."

"Oh, fix me one as well." She stretched like a cat and rolled her shoulders. "I've lost track of time, but it's probably late enough."

"You've got twenty minutes before dinner." Flitwick poured each of them a drink in small glass tumblers, and then conjured ice that clinked against the sides.

"It's later than I thought." Hermione blinked.

"When's the last time you took a break?" He peered at her.

"I started reading after Arithmancy." Hermione confessed.

"This morning?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"It was almost noon," she said weakly.

"Should I give this to you?" He smiled slyly at her. "Or will you be gracing us with a song during dinner?"

"Oh, for pity's sake, it was only once!" She grumbled. "And it took a lot more than this."

"Such a shame." Flitwick shook his head as he handed her the drink. "We could use a bit of entertainment."

She made a face at him as the glass met her lips. It burned, bit it was only a sip. She rolled it over her tongue before swallowing. "I may need an escort to get me up to the Head Table."

Flitwick chuckled as he threw back his glass and reached for the bottle again.

"Had a rough day?" Hermione remarked.

"I swear, the Hufflepuffs are out to kill me this year—"

The door to the Faculty Room banged open and Snape stepped through it calmly. Hermione froze in place and Flitwick forgot he was pouring. He looked down at the almost-full tumbler and swore.

"Thank you," Severus said as he swept by, picking it up as he dropped dramatically into an overstuffed armchair.

Flitwick continued to stare, but Hermione's eyes were starting to water.

"What, in the name of Merlin, happened to you?" Hermione asked, her voice just above a whisper.

"Rogue Hufflepuff." Snape growled. There were wisps of grey seeping from his robes, but steam or smoke, Hermione didn't know. It was a rancid, dank smell that made Hermione want to fling open a window. His hair was standing on end and it looked noticeably singed. Strangely, it seemed to be letting off vapor in the shape of flower petals that reeked of rotting roses.

"I told you!" Flitwick squeaked excitedly.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and then gave Snape a wary look. "Shouldn't you go to the hospital wing?" She waved her wand at him and his clothing briefly disappeared, only to be replaced with plain black robes. Then she waved her wand again and the windows flew open.

"You may want to wallow in that stink, but I don't have to put up with it. That hair's quite enough." She tried to sound normal, but in that blink between sets of clothing she had gotten a good look at his upper chest and shoulders and the Room of Requirement had been fairly accurate.

He opened his mouth, but ended up shutting it and knitting his eyebrows at her as he drank.

Hermione finished her drink before looking to Flitwick. He held out his arm to her. She smiled and let him help her to her feet. She teetered, but managed to stay upright.

"Come to dinner, Severus," Flitwick called over his shoulder. "You'll pay for it in the morning if you don't."

He made a grouchy noise as the other two professors walked out.

"You know I'm right!"

Snape did not, in fact, join the rest of the staff for dinner, but Hermione and Flitwick had it on good authority that he had finally made his way to the hospital wing and Madame Pomfrey had forced him to eat some soup and a sandwich as she applied a special potion to his head.

Flitwick had asked for pictures, but sadly, there weren't any.

* * *

Hermione made her way, nervously, to the Room of Requirement. When the door opened the instruments were there, as usual, but there was no Snape.

She almost hoped he wouldn't appear tonight. She liked it very much when he did, but it made the next morning difficult. She avoided him during the day if she could, but that was proving to be more difficult lately. He, as well as every other professor in the school, was seeking out Professor Flitwick at all hours, inquiring about his latest project.

Her eyes darted around before they let upon the bed. It seemed much smaller than usual, but Hermione still fit onto it comfortably.

The strains of Peter and the Wolf started and she took a deep breath. She lay back on the pillow and sighed as the music washed over her. It sounded strange, to hear it without any narration, but it still relaxed her.

She closed her eyes and dreamed.

She was floating, high above Hogwarts. She wasn't afraid; it was if she were being held up by something she couldn't see.

She watched a pelican with horn-rimmed glasses fly by her. It opened its mouth and a tiny baby Hugo was fast asleep inside the satin-lined pouch. It closed its mouth and flew off and Hermione sang to it until it disappeared. She heard a piano and she looked up to see Snape on a cloud above her, playing a piano made of glass and humming a song she had never heard before.

He looked down and saw her. His hand reached down to her and she felt him pull her up to where he was. She didn't know what to say to him before he opened his mouth.

"If down is up, and up is down, then how do we know which one of us is real?"

"What?" She asked.

She opened her eyes to see the instruments had disappeared and low-burning torches lit the bare room around her.

She blinked and shook her head. Her heart was pounding, but she didn't know why. For some reason she was scared to step out into the hall; into the darkness where anything could be lurking. She shivered and pulled the covers up to her chin before closing her eyes. She forced herself to breathe deeply and was soon drifting off again.

In her dream she continued to float over Hogwarts, but when she looked up, Ron was there instead of Snape. She felt guilty and Ron seemed to know it.

He tilted back his head and laughed at her. "It's '_til death do us part_,' you ninny."

"I—I—"

"Forget about me, can you imagine Hugo's face?" Ron cackled wildly. "Keep it fresh in your mind so you can show me when you get here!"

Hermione sat straight up in the tiny bed and flung the covers off herself. She couldn't stay in the Room no matter what was out in the halls. She made her way to the door and peered out. The hall was empty and dimly lit by torches.

She skulked through the castle until she got closer to her quarters. She heard a soft tapping that became sharper and insistent the closer she got to her room. She rounded a corner and saw Sinistra and Flitwick murmuring and knocking on her door.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked. Both of the other professors jumped at the sound of her voice.

"I finished my class and he finished his rounds," Sinistra said sheepishly. "We thought you might be up, but then no one answered…"

"Basilisk ate me up. No Arithmancy professors here." Hermione grinned at the pair. "Come in for some tea?"

"That would be nice," Flitwick said in a hopeful voice.

Hermione muttered the password that unlocked her door and they walked into her quarters. Dim candles burned all around the room and a plate of sandwiches waited for her. Hermione frowned. "Did you do this?"

"We thought you might be coaxed out of bed with a snack." Flitwick blushed.

Sinistra snorted. "I'm fairly certain that's just you."

The little man scowled at her, but said nothing.

"Put the kettle on, will you?" Hermione sighed. "I'm going to wash my face."

"So, where were you?" Sinistra asked as Hermione busied herself in her bathroom.

"Fell asleep like a nitwit. Decided it was probably better to continue in here." Hermione rinsed her face and yawned. She walked back into her room and plunked down in a chair. "What would you have done if you couldn't find me?"

"Asked the ghosts to go look for you." Flitwick shrugged. The teapot began pouring itself into the three teacups Flitwick had transfigured from quills. "But, you showed up, after all."

Hermione closed her eyes, raised her eyebrows, and smoothed them down. "I really should get back to those Archives. See if there's anything in the room that messes with your dreams."

"How?" Sinistra looked interested. Hermione blushed deeply. "Oh, now you _have_ to tell us!"

Hermione opened and then closed her mouth. "Ron told me I should date Severus."

Flitwick choked violently and tea splattered out of his nose and onto the small table.

"See? I shouldn't have told you!" Hermione cried as she pounded him so hard on the back he fell from his chair.

Sinistra was laughing too hard to be of any use to anyone. "What else has been going on in there?"

Hermione blushed even redder.

"You know what? I don't want to know!" Flitwick spluttered. "Not one bit!"

Hermione had to giggle, in spite of herself.

"Well,_ I_ do!" Sinistra looked as if Christmas had come early.

Hermione shook her head furiously. "Not on your life!"

"Humph! You know you'll tell us eventually. You always do." Sinistra crossed her arms.

Hermione turned even redder. "Not this time."

* * *

This time the clearing was free of snow. Hermione knew there was no wolf about and she happily frolicked with the animal friends in a large field. She sensed Snape nearby, in the forest.

Somehow, she knew that if she decided to join them, the wolf would be as tame as a dog and would do her friends no harm. But she couldn't. She wanted to, Gods only knew how much she wanted to, but she couldn't.

Bubbling up in her chest was a feeling she had tried to push away, but now she couldn't avoid it.

She wouldn't be able to take it if he thought she was a fool. That she was desperate. Pathetic. Of all the things that could happen that was the one that stood out, blaring like a thousand trumpets, a song she couldn't ignore.

She stopped playing with her friends and stood still for a moment. The skies began to darken and it began raining. She and her friends ran to a small cabin nearby. The animals ran in easily, but the cabin had begun to shrink and in the end, she had to pull her foot inside quickly before the frame caught her.

The lights dimmed. She was wet, but the room was warm and there was room for everybody. A small window remained, but it quickly began fogging up.

She saw Snape walk into the clearing and knew he hadn't a chance of spotting the tiny cabin. She rubbed her finger against the glass to see better, but all he was doing was standing in the rain and looking around.

Hermione strode through the hallway, her cheeks glowing and her mind clear. She headed for the Room of Requirement with a bounce in her step. She had finally shook free of her nervousness and looked forward the the scenarios the Room of Requirement created for her. The door swung open fluidly for her and Hermione smiled when she spotted Snape at his instruments. He looked at her blankly as she went to her couch and sat, waiting for him to begin.

He stared at her for a moment. Hermione settled comfortably and closed her eyes, sighing. There was a sound like a violin hitting the floor and her eyes flew open to see him back towards the door. His face was pale and his eyes were scared.

Her lips parted but no sound came out.

He fumbled behind himself until he found the doorknob. He flung it open and retreated from the room. Hard footsteps ran down the hallway, away from her and the Room.

Her heart tried to beat itself out of her chest. Her mouth kept opening and closing. She felt numb, she felt faint, she felt like her blood was going from fire to ice and back again. She felt nauseous.

She got to her feet shakily and walked softly to the doorway. There was no one in the hallway. Even the air seemed still.

She ran to the nearest laundry chute and dove into it. As it zipped towards her floor she found herself mentally urging it to go faster. When it stopped she peered out into the hallway. She could see nothing besides the tapestry outside her room and the castle was silent.

She carefully got out of the chute and tiptoed to her room. She paused before walking in. What if he was here waiting for her? What if he had told McGonagall? What if he was pressing _charges?_

She began to prepare some tea, measuring out the ingredients as if it were a highly volatile potion. Concentrating on something so delicate helped.

There was a knock at the door and she jumped, upsetting the pot and pouring water down the front of her robes.

She swore and felt a wave of hysteria.

She opened the door and saw Flitwick standing there, beaming at her.

"I've got it!" He squeaked. "The end actually _needs_ a flourish at the end! Temperamental little thing, but it works!" He squinted at her. "What happened to you?"

She opened and closed her mouth, this time irritated at herself for doing it. She took a deep breath. "Something unexpected."

He pressed a folded up piece of parchment into her hand and took her by the elbow. "You sit. I'll get tea."

Hermione did as she was told, not even blinking when he waved his wand to tidy up the mess she had made. She swallowed when he glanced at her.

"You look like you just realized you handed over national secrets to You-Know-Who by accident."

Hermione groaned and laid her head on the table, into her folded arms.

"No…" Flitwick teased. "If you'd done that you'd be mad and working up some plan to use it to our advantage." There was no response from her. "It's that bad?"

"It's beyond bad," Hermione said in a quavering voice. "And I don't think I can tell anyone."

"Why not?" Flitwick looked at her seriously.

"It—it involves someone else."

"Anything to do with a certain professor?" Flitwick was looking more amused by the minute, but Hermione felt worse.

"I don't want to talk about it." Her head was beginning to throb.

"All right." Flitwick transfigured them teacups and placed them on the table before summoning a plate of sweets. "Eat a biscuit. Everything always feels a little better after tea and a biscuit."

Hermione gave him a crooked smile, in spite of herself. "Wish it was that easy this time."

"Think about it this way: one day this day will be far in the past." Flitwick shrugged as he filled their cups. "I need to get one of these."

"Gift from Molly, but I examined it and it's just a few localized Hot Hexes. You can even do it to a single cup if you want to." Hermione shrugged. "It's rather handy, though."

There was a knock on the door and Hermione jumped, spilling the hot tea down the front of her robes. Again.

Flitwick gave her a look of concern as he waved his wand, cleaning her robes. Again.

"You let me in!" Sinistra's voice was muffled.

Flitwick hurried over to the door and opened it.

The witch strode in and peered at Hermione. "What have you done to Severus?"

"What _haven't_ I done to Severus?" Hermione groaned.

"What?" Sinistra looked confused.

Hermione shook her head dismissively. "Nothing. What's he doing?"

"Draining the school's supply of rum and cackling like a madman." Sinistra looked confused.

"It's not magic, if that's what you're thinking. I haven't hexed him yet." Hermione let out a sigh and refilled her teacup.

"Well, that's a relief," Sinistra said seriously. "What happened?"

"She doesn't want to talk about it," Flitwick scolded her.

"All right," Sinistra said warily. "But if you change your mind—"

"I'm sure you'll be the first person she tells, nosy." Flitwick rolled his eyes.

Hermione nodded in agreement, which seemed to satisfy the older witch.

"Make sure you do."

* * *

Hermione dreaded breakfast, but there was no excuse for missing it. People would notice if she turned into a hermit after she had finally turned things around and started acting social.

She hoped he would stay to his end of the table. Prayed he would keep to himself.

To her surprise, though it really shouldn't have surprised her at all, his seat was vacant.

"Did you hear?" Sinistra asked in a teasing voice. "Severus is taking a leave of absence."

Hermione's heart sank. "He isn't."

"He is," Flitwick said as he waved a fork at her.

Hermione groaned as she sank into her seat.

"Still don't want to talk about it?" Sinistra said cloyingly.

"Absolutely," Hermione said firmly.

* * *

The first few days were hard, but when it became a full week with no sign of Snape, Hermione began to worry in a different way than before. She didn't want to look strange by inquiring, but wanted desperately to ask about his well-being.

"I've got news for you." Flitwick was poking at the food on his plate with a long, gold fork.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"Severus is in Gay Parée!" Flitwick said with a flourish of his fork and a horrible fake-accent.

_'The City of Love.'_ Hermione thought before she got angry at herself again. _Idiot._

"Seems like an odd spot for him," Sinistra said as she cut up a sausage. "What's he doing there?"

"Research," Flitwick said with a twinkle in his eye.

Hermione groaned.

"Are you ever going to tell us what happened?" Sinistra asked impatiently.

"If you give me Veritaserum, I swear I'll jump out a window before I talk," Hermione said with a shake of her head.

The older woman put a hand on her arm. "We're serious this time. You need to tell us what happened."

"I'll—I'll tell you tomorrow," Hermione promised. "I just need another day to process it."

Flitwick gave her a look of concern. "You know we're discreet."

"It's not just about me, this time." Hermione felt tears of frustration rising, but she blinked them back down.

* * *

Hermione walked through the dark halls of Hogwarts. Her rounds had been over hours ago, but she discovered that long walks in the castle at night could be peaceful. She found that she loved shadows. Her experiences with the invisibility cloak had been amusing, for the most part, but it was nothing like the thrill of hiding in plain sight. She could understand why Snape did it so much.

She felt a lump in her throat as a wave of guilt rushed over her.

She went back to her rooms and threw herself into an overstuffed chair. Her eyes fell on her table and the small piece of folded paper.

Flitwick had said it was tricky. Maybe even tricky enough that it would distract her.

She flicked her wand and the paper flew to her. Flitwick hadn't been exaggerating, it certainly looked complicated. Hermione's first attempt fizzled. The second blew the book off of the table. The third backfired silver sparks that caused Hermione to drop her wand and shake her hand.

She narrowed her eyes at the parchment as she reached for her wand. She tried the spell again, this time paying extra attention to the flourish at the end.

The book Sinistra had lent her rose into the air, its ancient pages separating itself into distinct groups to make up for lack of a bookmark. Hermione screwed up her face. That might be something to consider when suggesting things to Flitwick.

She picked up several lengths of ribbon before approaching the book. As she slipped the ribbon between the pages the book almost seemed to relax and she plucked it from the air easily.

She began reading and her eyes went wide. She almost made for her door, but she realized most of the castle was still asleep and professors liked being woken up about as much as anyone.

She sighed and set the book down. Tomorrow was Saturday. She could spend the whole day tracking people down if she needed to.

Hermione woke and stretched her arms. She had stayed up so late she had grabbed an early breakfast in the kitchens instead of facing the Hall right before she went to bed. She looked at her clock and groaned. Nearly 1 o'clock in the afternoon and she was still short of a full night's rest.

Her eyes fell on the book lying on her table. It hadn't been a dream, after all. She shook her head and it started pounding. She glanced at her tea pot, but this time she needed something a bit stronger. No one would ever know. It didn't have to leave her rooms.

She glanced around for a moment before realizing how silly she she was acting.

She waved her wand and a tall glass appeared in front of her. Fizzy brown liquid swirled around from the trip, but not a drop had been spilled.

Hermione took the glass and drank deeply. She sighed as she conjured some toast and a boiled egg. She drank again, this time scrunching up her nose. She had always enjoyed the bubbles, but at her age the only thing they did was tickle her nose. She burped, and then giggled at herself. She hadn't had a breakfast this unhealthy since uni. What on earth would the children think?

She scarfed down the rest of her extremely late breakfast and finished her fizzy drink before washing her face and getting dressed. She slid the archives into a small satchel and made her way to the Astronomy Tower.

The grass was lush and long. It had drizzled the night before and it made her walk difficult, but she finally got to her destination.

There was a sound like an explosion above her and she shielded herself before she looked up. Bits of paper fluttered through the air; twisting on the wind before they softly landed on the grass.

Flitwick's scowling face appeared from a window, but it lit up at the sight of Hermione.

"Bring those up, will you?" His head popped back into the tower.

Hermione looked around and sighed. She waved her wand and the scraps of paper flew through the air, funneling themselves into the satchel she was carrying.

She began the march up to the third floor, feeling slightly winded when she got there.

The room looked even worse than the mess outside. Hermione shook her head and dumped out her satchel on a table laden with a tea service and little cakes, decorated liberally with small bits of paper.

Hermione raised an eye at Sinistra, who was blushing bright pink. "Forgot the little flourish at the end, didn't you?"

The older professor nodded and looked deeply embarrassed.

"We'll have everything back to normal in a few minutes," Flitwick scoffed. "I said it was tricky. I shouldn't think anyone would have gotten it right their first time."

"I didn't," Hermione admitted. "Wand backfired and singed me."

Flitwick raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, that's a new one. What did you do wrong?"

"If I knew I wouldn't be so nervous about trying again. I used bookmarks." Hermione shrugged as she waved her wand. The other two professors joined her and soon bits of paper were swirling around the room as they put themselves back together, finally settling down and gently placing an enormous book on the table.

"Great Merlin, what on earth is that?" Hermione asked.

"Astronomy archives for the last thousand years. Some of those old wizards sure liked to blather on." Sinistra rolled her eyes.

Hermione smiled and tried to suppress a chuckle. Her eyes went to the table of tea and cakes.

"Help yourself," Flitwick encouraged her. "What have you brought us?"

Her eyes flicked to Sinistra for a moment. "I found the origin of the Room of Requirement and its original purpose. It was only mentioned in bits and pieces here and there, but the spell helped compile everything together."

Sinistra went to the archival book as Hermione helped herself to a tiny piece of cake decorated with a pink and yellow rose.

As she began paging through it, Flitwick's eyebrows went up as he craned his neck to read. "So that's what you've been up to!"

Sinistra closed the book before she had read everything.

"You need to go after him and make him read this, whether he likes it or not. Then you can decide what to do."

Hermione nodded somberly. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"But you know someone that can help with that," Sinistra said in a reminding sort of voice.

"Really?" Hermione looked bewildered. "Who?"


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione adjusted the hood of her cloak before entering the building. It stank of beer and piss and dodgy plans. Small groups of men sat around tables, huddled in groups and speaking in low tones.

She walked up to the bartender.

"It's semi-self-service," the middle aged, balding man told her in a bored tone. "Pick a table and write what you want in the book, then wait."

"Even if what I want is someone?" Hermione murmured.

"Especially then," the bartender said firmly. "We're a full bar so if you want something off the beaten path we probably have it."

Hermione nodded and chose a table in a dark, but fairly un-smelly corner. A small book lay on the table, a quill nearby.

Hermione wrote in the book. Then paused and wrote something else. She closed the book in a satisfied way and leaned back in her chair.

A tall glass full of dark liquid, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream appeared on the table and Hermione was delighted. She's enjoyed this drink on vacation, but had been once thrown out the Three Broomsticks for ordering it.

A figure at another table stood up and approached her. They sat down and grunted.

"Dung?" Hermione asked in a low voice.

The man's face poked out of the hood for a moment and peered at her. "Never thought I'd meet you here. Ice cream should have given it away." He grunted.

"Got a job for you," Hermione said quietly. "Something that has to be handled discreetly."

Mundungus Fletcher scratched the side of his face through his cloak's hood. "What's in it for me?"

"Finder's fee and I won't beat you to death with a chair," Hermione said, her voice said, gaining an edge to it.

"All right, all right." He held both his hands up. "Buy me a drink and you've got a deal."

"Go ahead." Hermione passed him the little book.

Soon, a mug of brown liquid appeared on the table and Mundungus squinted at it. "Why does mine look different than yours?"

"You've got fizzy drink in yours. I've got Guinness in mine." Hermione said, taking a drink from her glass.

"Sacrilege!" Mundungus squeaked. "Foul drink of the beast! Back!" He crossed himself.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic." Hermione huffed.

"Hard not to, with that thing staring you in the face." Mundungus snorted.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"So," he began curiously, "what is it you're having me find?"

"It's not a 'what' as much as a 'whom…' Hermione poked at the ice cream with her straw.

"Oh, peoples is extra," Mundungus said firmly. "On account of them fighting back."

"I'm not asking you to kidnap anyone, just find them."

"What for?" Mundungus looked suspicious. "You ain't the type of girl that normally goes looking for trouble."

"Well, I am this time." She slid an envelope out of her cloak and over the table. "Information's in there."

"And my fee—" Hermione tossed him a small pouch that jingled. He took it greedily and peered inside. His eyebrows went up in shock. "I think this is more than enough to cover everything."

Mundungus was far more discreet than Hermione gave him credit for. She had expected an owl. She never expected to have an envelope sitting on her little table when she got back from her nightly rounds.

She peered around, expecting to see him, but there was no other sign anyone else had been there.

She opened it and read quickly before crumpling it up and grabbing her cloak.

She slung her satchel over her arm before fastening her cloak around her neck. She wrapped herself in it tightly before remembering she needed to grab a handful of Floo powder. Then she realized her destination may not be the best one. She thought for a moment, trying to calm herself. She sighed deeply before throwing the powder into her fireplace: _"Diagon Alley!"_

She pulled the hood further over her head before she walked through the green flames and into the familiar setting of Diagon Alley. The shops around her had lit up display windows, although all the others were dark. They had closed hours ago, but she was thankful for the dim light on the empty street.

She wrapped her cloak around her and cast a repellant charm. Even if someone was headed straight for her, they would soon find a reason to walk around her or cross the street.

She made her way down the street, checking her reflection in shop windows several times and pausing for a moment to look at a display of colorful, scented quills at Flourish and Blotts.

She finally found her way to her destination; a crooked board, ripped down and nailed back up so often the wood had gone ragged, that read: _Knockturn Alley._

She slipped between buildings and true darkness enveloped her.

She stood stock-still for a few moments. Knockturn Alley was a peculiar and dangerous place during the day. At night it was whispered that all sorts of rogue curses and hexes gone wrong slide from their shops and into the shadows to seep into the minds of the unsuspecting.

Hermione doubted that could happen, but what she did know was that there wasn't any law about booby-trapping an entrance with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

She waited for a few moments, her ears craning for a hint of anything, but hearing nothing out of the ordinary. She stepped forward a few paces, taking care not to trip on an overly-large cobblestone. The she listened again. Again there was nothing, so she continued until she had cleared the cloud and stepped into the dim alley.

A man was standing there, scowling at her, his face appearing even more intimidating in the dim light. He sniffed the air a few times before snorting. "Going to have to reset the blasted thing now. Good going, Granger."

Hermione scowled and cast a charm removing all smells from her clothing and person. "How did you know it was me?"

"The wife uses the same hair relaxer." Draco Malfoy shrugged before tugging on the door of _Borgin & Malfoy's_ harder. There was a click and he set to work on all of the locks with a ring of keys and his wand. "Muggle brand."

"There's more than one witch with uncooperative hair," Hermione huffed.

"Sneaking round in the dead of night when Mundungus Fletcher was snooping around looking for Severus a few hours ago?" He made a _'tsk'_ sound at her. "Oh, I don't think so."

She tried not to groan. "And why would I be looking for Severus?" she asked hotly.

"Spare me," he said as he finished the last lock. "I told that filthy little man the truth. Now go get him before I end up killing him myself. He's driving me mad."

Hermione's brows knitted together, but she nodded before swooping down the street. She pulled out the crumpled bit of paper again and read the address. She stared at the space between a fruit stall (or what she hoped was a fruit stall) and an apothecary for a few moments before another door appeared.

She went through it with no trouble and began the climb up a flight of stairs that never seemed to end, her wand lighting her way. At the top there was a door, old and heavy with iron bands securing it together. She knocked on it lightly and a slot opened up.

"Whachoo want?" A gravelly voice asked her.

"Come to collect. Don't want any trouble." Hermione said honestly. She knew if she lied the door would push her to her death.

It grunted before the door swung open and she was let in.

A round house-elf sat perched on a shelf on the back of the door. It stared at her greedily. "What can we do for you?"

She handed him a galleon before asking for Snape.

It looked at the galleon as if she had tried to hand him a dead rat. A small levitating can appeared out of thin air and it disappeared as soon as Hermione had put the coin in it. The house-elf blew through a small bone whistle that hung around his neck on an ancient, worn shoelace. Another house-elf appeared, this time a thin one with beady black eyes and long-thin ears that looked like a crumpled old newspaper.

"The gold treatment for this one," the round elf grunted. The thin one looked surprised and looked at Hermione.

"If you mislead me you'll wish your mother had drowned you at birth," Hermione said coldly.

It flinched as it took the coin and Hermione felt horrible, but these elves had been given specific instructions regarding admittance, tricks, and payment for the ancient building. If they thought they could lure her to her death, they probably would, and have a fine supper of her. These were not the same sort of elves that served families, these were the sort of elves nightmares and fairy-tales originated from. At least the one on the door was, but she didn't want to take any chances.

The skinny one held its hand out to her and she took it. They disappeared with a _'pop'_ and reappeared in a hallway of different sorts of doors.

There were tall doors and small doors; short and fat; tall and so narrow Hermione doubted a person could pass through them; one that looked decidedly like a cat flap and an enormous one that looked as if it were made of solid gold.

The one the elf had placed them in front of was wood, carved with intricate patterns: small animals and trees and delicate lacy bits Hermione suspected were made with magic. The elf swung the door open and Hermione blinked, and then tried to hide her surprise. It opened out into a forest clearing, a small two-story cabin squatting at its edge, a ribbon of smoke coming from its chimney and a smell of potions on the air.

"Shall I wait for you outside, miss?" The elf asked her politely.

"No," Hermione said. "Thank you." She hesitated before she walked through it. "Do you ever wish for anything more?"

Its face went dreamy for a moment and it looked like any other house-elf. "Don't we all, Miss?"

She handed him a silver knut and he looked at it in wonderment, turning it over in his hands. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before reaching into her robes.

"Here," she said, her voice a whisper. "You hide it from that other one. I command it."

The elf looked scared, but his eyes went wide and round when she handed him a small slip of parchment and walked through the door. It shut behind her and when she turned around she wasn't surprised to see it had gone.

She began the short march to the cabin, her eyes reaching up to the cold sky. Snow was beginning to fall.

She knocked on the door to the cabin and everything went dark. She took a step back and saw that even the smoke had stopped. She pushed on the door and it swung open to an empty room, thinly shrouded in a fine layer of dust.

"I know you're here, you idiot," Hermione declared to the room. "Thought this might be enlightening." She dropped her satchel onto a low table with a loud _'thump.'_ She could have sworn the table groaned. She ignored it.

"I don't care what you decide, just come back to work. The castle is altogether too cheerful a place without you."

She marched out of the cabin and back into the clearing, unsurprised when the door slammed shut and locked behind her.

She lifted her wand and Apparated.

"So what did you do?" Sinistra asked.

"I left it there." Hermione shrugged. "What else could I do?"

"I'm still not entirely sure what's going on." Flitwick sipped at his mug of tea. "How familiar are we talking about?"

"Familiar enough that not much talking was involved." Sinistra waved him off as he choked.

"Gracious, that _is_ familiar!" Flitwick let out a sound like a strangled chuckle.

Hermione turned red. "What if he thinks it's a hoax?" Hermione asked. "The whole thing is just so embarrassing!"

"Well, it's embarrassing for him, too, you know," Flitwick said as he dabbed at his beard with a napkin. "That man just doesn't let people get close to him."

Sinistra started giggling again, but Hermione just rolled her eyes.

There was a scratch at the window and they turned to see a dirty old pigeon perched on the sill, an envelope laying nearby.

"Pigeon?" Flitwick exclaimed as Hermione let it in. It immediately swooped in and landed on the table, surveying the food and pecking at a sandwich. "What? Shoo!" Flitwick squeaked, waving his hands at the bird, who cooed rudely at the small wizard and made to peck at him.

Hermione gasped at the letter she had begun reading and pulled her wand out quickly. She waved it and the pigeon turned into Mundungus Fletcher, who toppled backwards off the table with an enormous _'CRASH!'_

Sinistra swore as he upset the tea service, wobbly getting to his feet. He pointed a finger at Hermione. "Next time I'm asking for hazard pay!"

"I paid you plenty." Hermione scowled. "Shut up and eat a sandwich."

He pulled out a stubby, worn-down wand and waved it to clean the mess he had made, thinking to conjure a small cluster of wildflowers to hand so Sinistra as he tipped his hat at her.

"Oh, all right," Sinistra sighed as she took them. "Have a seat, you little beggar."

Mundungus happily pulled up a stool, making him much shorter than everyone else at the table, but he seemed to like having his food at eye-level. He stacked two halves of a sandwich and took an enormous bite.

"Great heavens, man." Flitwick chuckled. "We're not going to take it away!"

"Never can tell," Mundungus mumbled from around a mouthful of food. "Better safe than sorry."

"Hermione?" Sinistra said in a concerned voice, causing everyone to quiet down. "Are you all right?"

"He's going to meet me." Hermione's voice was a squeak. "To talk about the situation."

"What situation?" Mundungus asked, but Flitwick hushed him.

"When?" Sinistra asked.

"Tonight." Hermione swallowed. "After dinner."

"Where is he meeting you?" Flitwick frowned.

"I have no idea." Hermione shrugged. "There's a coin wrapped in a slip of paper in here. This letter says it's a portkey."

"Well," Sinistra said after a moment. "This is what you've been waiting for."

"I know," Hermione admitted.

"So what are you going to do?" Flitwick asked.

"What else can I do?" Hermione folded the letter back up. "I just want to get it over with."

"Get what over with?" Mundungus asked curiously.

"All right, that's enough of you! Out!" Sinistra prodded him with her wand.

"See what I mean?" Mundungus cried out at Flitwick as he was pushed towards the door. "It's my right to know! It got me transfigured into a pigeon by a madman!"

Sinistra closed the door behind him and Hermione was sure he huffed for a few moments before making his way down the stairs of Astronomy Tower.

Sinistra returned to the table and sit down primly. "Whatever you do, dear, make sure it's soon. There's talk of Hagrid filling in as part of the substitute rotation."

Hermione knocked over her tea in alarm, flooding the table and taking away a biscuit. "I'll tie him up and drag him back if I have to."

"He might like that," Sinistra said with a twinkle in her eye.

The evening came faster than Hermione had expected and Sinistra and Flitwick couldn't help noticing the speed at which Hermione scarfed down her meal and fled the Hall. They laughed and waved merrily at her as her cloak flapped as she turned the corner.

She hurried to her room, waving her wand as she went. Her robes were cleaned and freshened, her hair braided, her shoes polished.

By the time she got to her room she was practically hyperventilating. Her eyes went to her clock and she let out a breath. Twenty minutes.

She cast about the room for a moment, looking for something to do. She ended up sitting in a chair and watching the time pass by. She had enough going on in her head to occupy herself without becoming bored.

She watched the hands of the clock creep across its face, tried to breathe in time with it's ticking, but didn't quite seem to make it work.

The time finally came and Hermione found herself staring at the envelope instead of picking it up. She watched a minute tick by on her clock, then another. A couple more passed before she seized the envelope and poured the paper-wrapped coin into her hand.

She stared at it for a moment before she began carefully unfolding the paper. She swallowed as she looked at it, sitting innocuously on the paper resting in her palm.

She scowled at herself before taking a deep breath and curling her fingers around the coin.

To her surprise, she found herself in front of the small cabin in the woods.

She looked both ways, hoping the house-elves that kept the building of rooms wouldn't be angry at her for circumnavigating them.

The windows in the cabin were lit. Smoke curled from the chimney, this time a meaty, spicy smell that made her think of her grandmother.

She approached the cabin and the windows didn't go dark. He could always change his mind, of course. The windows could fall dark, the chimney smoke cut off as easily as a man capping his pipe. It would make things easier, at least outwardly.

Hermione grappled with the idea of a pulled-out-of-retirement Hagrid fumbling his way through a potions class. She shivered.

When she got to the door she hesitated. There was no noise from the interior of the cabin, but that might have been charmed against sound. Or he could just be quiet. She lay her hand on the door, putting an imprint in the snow the wind had caked to the door. She felt something under her fingertips and began brushing the snow away to reveal a paw-print, nearly as big as a man's hand.

She stared at it for a moment before glancing sideways at a window. The curtains were closed, as usual, but the light they cast on the snow betrayed them. A sliver of light lay there and Hermione found herself walking away from the door to peer into the window.

A cauldron was bubbling on the fire. He was there: reading a label on a bottle of wine and frowning. He looked to a cabinet and back to the bottle. He made to put it down, but stopped halfway and carried it over to the cabinet. The book lay on the small table she had dropped it on. She blinked in surprise. It hadn't been him after all. Then where had the groan—

She stopped herself and forced herself to march back to the door. She knocked on it before she had time to think it over.

There was a sound of glass breaking and a loud swear and she had to bite her lips. After a moment the door swung open.

He stiffened at the sight of her, but she walked in anyway.

"So." Hermione said awkwardly.

He grunted at her.

She felt her cheeks burn. She felt so many things, guilt among them, she didn't know where to begin.

"I apologize for any impropriety that has happened between us," he said sharply. "But I think—"

"I think I'm to blame as well," Hermione interrupted him. "Even more so. I'm so sorry. If you want to press charges—"

He barked out a laugh.

"I'm serious!" Hermione began to grow angry.

"For what? Pulling my zipper down while I was wagging a great thick one in your face?" His eyes burned with anger.

"Among other things," Hermione couldn't help interjecting. Her eyes flickered to his beltline and then avoided him. Her cheeks burned.

All was quiet for a moment.

"Other things," he echoed. "And what would those be?"

Hermione knew there were two very clear roads in front of her: arguing over there the guilt lay, each of them insisting it lay within themselves; or refreshing his memory.

She returned his icy stare. "If you don't remember, perhaps something has finally snapped in that brain of yours." She smirked in spite of herself.

His eyes registered it and his eyebrows twitched, but he regained composure quickly. "Oh, really." He pulled his robes away from him, something unexpected straining at the front of her trousers.

Hermione had to close her eyes for a moment. She bit her bottom lip and tried to recover.

"Does this look like I don't remember?" His face was stony, but his eyes roamed all over her.

"I'm sure I don't know what you remember," Hermione said coolly.

"I'm sure you do." His fingertips began to trace over the front of his pants. Pants that were getting tighter by the moment.

She took a step towards him and cocked an eyebrow. "The book claims all the people the Room creates are non-corporeal."

"Your hand would go right through them," he added, taking his hand away from his trousers and leaning back, giving her an even better view.

"Quite an amusing trick," Hermione added. "The archives said it was to keep people honest."

"I'm not sure there's anything honest about the Room of Requirement." He stepped closer to her. She could feel his body heat and her body responded violently, muscles contracting and forcing her hips forward, just a bit.

But enough for him to notice. He smirked at her.

"Back before people got around as much it could prove valuable to be able to see someone in the flesh, even if you couldn't touch them. Good for identifying people." Hermione pointed out.

"Not so honest when you use it to strip down prospective matrimonial pairings so you may judge them before marriage." He pushed his hips forward, just enough that he brushed against her.

"Better than a nasty surprise," Hermione said, forcing the words out.

He took her by the shoulders and turned her around. He pushed against her bottom and she forced back a groan. He put his hands on her hips and began kissing the back of her neck.

"Finding out you're not compatable after a trek across the continent is enough to put a damper on anyone's mood." He sounded like he was panting.

"It's like a three-dimensional photograph. Look, but don't touch." Hermione began drawing up her robes and moving forward so she was standing against the back of the couch. She held onto it for support as he bunched her robes around her waist and undid his trousers.

"But touching is so much fun," he said, fighting back the urge to lose control.

She spun around to face him, popping her bottom up on the back of the couch and encircling him with her legs. She pulled his head close to her and she whispered in his ear. "So is finding out one of your collegues is a slutty little bit of fuck."

He began coving her neck and shoulder with kisses. He ground into her and she grabbed at his robes fiercely.

"Beg for it," she ordered him.

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease," he whispered.

She pulled back and gave him a coy look. "Why Professor, you act like you know what I'll like!" She gave him a challenging look.

"I'll give you what you like, you little whore," Severus ground out between his teeth as he pushed forward.

This time she allowed herself to buck up to meet him and he groaned at her movements, all sense of propriety gone as he gave her a look she'd never seen before. At least, not on him.

His fingers ripped open the front of her robes and he ran his hand over her gently. She looked up at him and their eyes met. She watched his face contort as he shuddered and jerked before she leaned up to kiss him.

It was odd, with all that had been going on, that they had never kissed before, but now they had and there it was. And it had made Severus Snape blush like a schoolboy. She did it again and this time he returned it, a bit awkwardly, but it was mutual.

She slid off the back of the couch, her feet landing lightly on the floor. Pushing her robes back down and enjoying the sight of him.

He waved his wand to clean himself off and tucked himself away, making Hermione scowl. "I'm a bit rusty."

Hermione quirked a corner of her mouth at him. "Me too."

"I—err- have a bit of curry on the fire," Severus offered.

"And wine to go with it," Hermione grinned.

"I—yes. Yes, I do," Severus said, a bit flustered. "And something else."

"What?" Hermione perked up.

"I feel somewhat foolish," he confessed. "I finished the recording a few days ago. It was for a cousin. I thought you might like a copy."

"I would _love_ a copy," Hermione said honestly. "Not as distracting as a live show, no threat of killing myself sneaking around the dungeons."

Severus groaned. "I should have known it was you. Bloody house-elves were ready to kill themselves rather than give you up."

"Well, it's not like you were going to let me sit in," Hermione complained. "And it was the only thing that kept me from going mad."

"I thought your acclimation to the castle was finally beginning," Severus said as he went to the fireplace. He waved his wand and the pot unhooked itself and began floating towards the low table.

"It did after I found you," Hermione shrugged. "You know how much I hate drinking potions for every little thing."

"So you went to spying?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "That wouldn't have been my choice."

"I—I couldn't help it." She hated admitting weakness. "When I was little and it was storming my grandfather would always play me Peter and the Wolf on the old record player…it had just been so long since I'd gotten a decent night's sleep."

"Having an upheaval in your sleep patterns isn't unusual for someone going through a life change," Severus said slowly, as if he were testing the waters about her life before she became a live-in professor.

"I slept in the Room," Hermione said quietly. "Did you get to that part of the book?"

"You aren't the only one who slept in that room," Severus muttered.

She was caught off balance and ended up giving him a strange look.

"You first," he prompted her.

"I saw Ron. He told me not to feel guilty. It helped a lot." Hermione decided it was best to leave out the part about Hugo's expression.

"I saw—" a look of pain crossed his face. He shook his head.

Hermione quirked a corner of her mouth and shook her head. "Redheads." She shrugged. "What can you do?"

He choked out a laugh as if he was unused to the action. "Indeed."

"So." She took a deep breath. "In all seriousness. Come back to Hogwarts. They're threatening to give a few classes to Hagrid."

"That oaf in _my_ potion stores?" He had a look of utter dismay on his face.

"Even if you're only coming back to teach, for the love of Merlin, do it." Hermione folded her hands and pleaded with him.

His breath caught in his throat and he looked at the ripped front of Hermione's robes. He unfolded the fabric and ran his hand over her bare skin. "Beg."

"Please."

Her fingers rested gently on the bulge in his trousers before she smirked at him and began working at the fastenings.

Six Months Later

"That book was priceless!" Flitwick squeaked as they rounded a corner in one of the many halls of Hogwarts..

"Well, we got it back together and that's what's important!" Sinistra said, hushing him as they passed a group of fourth years. "No one has to know."

"I'd say Pince is going to notice the minute she opens the damned thing and notices how much is missing. Pages don't disintegrate overnight, you know," he said grouchily. "Next time practice on something less historically significant."

"Fine," she said hotly. "As soon as you stop putting sticky fingerprints all over my star charts!"

They paused in the hall at the sound of shouting.

"Well, I hear they've started the faculty meeting without us." Flitwick shook his head.

"You'd think they'd tone it down a bit now that they're an item." Sinistra winced at the sound of a fist pounding on a table.

Flitwick snorted. "I think it's their species' form of foreplay."

"Got his stag night planned?" she asked as they turned around and began to walk as far away from the faculty meeting as they could.

"He's refusing to call it that." Flitwick chuckled

"Oh, for pity sake!" Sinistra groaned as they headed out a doorway and out into the open air. "Still?"

"Always," Flitwick said cheerfully. "We're calling it python night."

"Makes sense, considering what he's smuggling in his pants." Sinistra giggled.

"I didn't need to hear that!" The small man stuffed his fingers into his ears. He stopped to grab a handful of wildflowers as they passed, tucking most of them into the small pouch he kept at his belt for herbs and handing Sinistra a pink one.

"Oh, my favorite!" She oohed and aahed before she tucked it into her belt.

They walked for a few moments more before they rounded the castle and approached the Quiddith pitch.

"Ever thought of using the Room for yourself?" Flitwick asked suddenly.

"What? Me?" Sinistra giggled.

"Not for _that!"_ Flitwick exclaimed. "Just, you know, to find out who you're compatible with. You don't have to make it dirty."

"Oh, I don't know." She looked at him skeptically. "I'm doing well now. I'm a bit too old to be running around like a lovesick hen."

"Sometimes you're a lot younger than you think you are." Flitwick offered her another bloom, an action that, this time, made her blush.

"You know," she said tentatively, "you might be right about that." She thought for a moment before shyly accepting the flower. They looked at each other for a moment before they continued their turn around the grounds.

The End


End file.
